


Through the Door of Veils

by Caughtinblackseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All kinds of magic including blood magic and sex magic, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Hermione Granger, F/M, I'm making this up as I go along, M/M, Multi, Nasty Language, This is going to be seriously AU, Violence, might be some Weasley or Dumbledore bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-10-21 17:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caughtinblackseyes/pseuds/Caughtinblackseyes
Summary: Hermione is thrown through a door at the Ministry of Magic and ends up in another place in time. She finds herself living on the Potter Estate with James and his family. Everything there is topsy-turvy and confusing. She's living in a world where enemies are now friends. She's a Pure-blood witch named Ivy and engaged to James Potter. She's two people living in one powerful body. Nothing seems familiar except for the dark threat building in this other world to rival the one in her own.





	1. Mirror Mirror on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah this happened. I've never done a story like this before so bear with me. The laws of time or dimensional travel are lost on my tiny brain, so I'm making the rules up as I go. Ultimately, Hermione will end up in a Triad in this strange new world as well as in her own world because she's just that awesome and powerful.
> 
> I'm almost finished with the next chapter of Something About Hermione and An Unexpected Trio. Until then, I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter 1

 

 

Hermione wasn't sure how it happened. One minute she was in the Department of Mysteries fighting Death Eaters and the next, she was being propelled through an unmarked door, having been hexed by that bastard Lucius Malfoy. She supposed she should be grateful that the hex hadn't imparted more damage although she was going to be damn sore along with sporting a scar the size of a chocolate frog on the side of her abdomen. Death Eaters didn't disarm, they didn't take prisoners unless specifically ordered by Voldemort. No, they aimed their wands in an effort to maim, and then kill. Still, she wasn't dead, so that right there was saying something.

 

She'd seen the hex coming; the absolute determination on the senior Malfoy's' face to inflict as much damage as possible to the Filthy Mud-blood.  At the last second, she'd turned her body just-so and was saved from the majority of the jet of dark red bursting forth from the tip of his wand. She'd been hit, that was true, but not with the full force of the spell. She'd been damn lucky.

 

Wincing as she slowly rose to her feet, Hermione tried to search the room for enemies, but she was completely enveloped in darkness. Remaining motionless, she listened, really listened to her surroundings just as Remus had taught her. Nothing. Not. A. Damn. Thing.

 

Taking a chance, she whispered, “Lumos.”

 

The small spark at the end of her wand barely penetrated the suffocating atmosphere. Warily, she moved her wand from side-to-side and although it was dim, she did catch the merest glimmer off to her right. Moving stealthily, also taught by Remus, Hermione made her way to where the glimmer was now growing brighter. What she saw astonished her. Standing before her was a doorway very similar to the one she'd seen in another room of the Department of Mysteries.

 

A sort of flash caught her attention off to the left, so Hermione moved her wand in that direction as well discovering another doorway very similar to the one before her. After further investigation, to her absolute astonishment, she discovered that this entire room was lined with doorways. At first, they reminded her of the veil, but upon closer inspection, they didn't seem as ominous. In fact, they were beautiful. She peered into one after the other trying to discern where they might lead. Finally, she settled on one whose border was simple, yet elegant. Not nearly as ornate as some of the others, but it drew her none-the-less.

 

The surface undulated, creating a bright silver, putting her in mind of wave after wave of moving mercury. Curious, Hermione stepped closer and when nothing happened, she tentatively reached out, placing her hand against the veneer of silver. Much to her surprise, it was solid and cool against her palm. It felt... good. Suddenly, she began to feel vibrations coming from it, working its way through her hand and up her arm. Panicked, Hermione tried to draw back but found herself unable to do so.

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she silently admonished herself. She knew better than to touch an unknown artifact! She could yell at herself later. Right now, she needed to get off this thing! Raising her wand arm, Hermione attempted to use any spell she could think of to gain her release, but nothing worked. In fact, the vibrations grew stronger and to her horror, her hand began to be swallowed up! She was being sucked into the archway!

 

Pulling violently accomplished nothing; she was now almost covered by the substance up passed her bicep. Cursing, she dug her heels into the floor, leaning back for leverage, but the insistent pull did not abate. The last thought that flashed through Hermione's head as she was sucked completely into the void was that she'd survived by the skin of her teeth from Lucius Malfoy only to end up being idiotic enough of doing him the service of killing herself!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lucius Apparated to the designated meeting place; his son following shortly after.

 

“Is it done,” Draco asked with a furrowed brow.

 

“Yes,” murmured, the older Malfoy. “Prepare yourself. I am uncertain as to how the Dark Lord will react.”

 

Draco sighed. “He's been after Granger for quite some time. Perhaps he won't be angry since the deed has finally been accomplished.”

 

“Doubtful.” His father disagreed, then added, “However, one can hope he will view it as such.” Turning to the boy, he instructed sharply, “Do _nothing_ to attract his attention when he arrives. _Nothing_. Keep your eyes downcast not only as a sign of respect, but also so he cannot see into your thoughts. Severus has done a fine job in training your mind against the Dark Lord, but there are times when your eyes betray you.”

 

Draco nodded briefly, hand tightening on his wand as he heard the various popping sounds of the others appearing all around them. “Do you think she'll survive,” Draco whispered.

 

“If anyone can, it is she,” his father muttered. “Events have unfolded as foretold, so it is safe to assume she will arrive unharmed, otherwise none of this will have happened. Be quiet now, boy,” Lucius commanded as one of the Death Eaters broke away from group, striding purposefully toward the blonde wizard, wand aimed at his heart.

 

“You snatched glory from my very grasp,” Dolohov snarled, stopping mere inches from the other mans' face. “She was _mine_! The Dark Lord deemed it so!”

 

Unmoved by this show of aggression, Lucius calmly replied, “Your aim was off. You attempted twice to hit her and failed. I took the chance that I might fare better. Which _I_ did.”

 

“I was getting rid of those around her first! I wanted the absolute best vantage point,” Dolohov growled, spittle spilling from his mouth as he raged on. “You've ruined everything!”

 

“You have failed our Lord in this task before,” Lucius reminded the other wizard with a sneer. “I had the opportunity to rectify your mistake and I took it. Now step back, or I will blast you back. The choice is yours.”

 

Enraged, Dolohov grabbed Lucius by the front of his robes hauling him nearly off of his feet, but before he could do any further harm, a silver dagger appeared just under his Adam's apple, slicing the tender skin, releasing a line of small, red beads of blood. The wound was superficial, as was intended, but it served its purpose.

 

Dolohov abruptly released him, stepping back slightly, murder still lurking in his eyes. “This is far from over, Malfoy.”

 

Pocketing his dagger, Lucius's lips twisted in derision. “I would be more concerned with your own plight considering you have managed to lose favor with our Lord with your continued ineptitude.”

 

Growling deep in his throat, the other wizard raised his wand once more, intent on damaging the other man. Lucius stood his ground, face placid. Just as Dolohov was preparing to utter the Death Curse, his wand flew from his grasp. Dolohov turned slightly to see the Dark Lord brandishing it.

 

“Enough!”

 

Dolohov backed off as their Master moved with serpentine grace amongst his followers. Stopping in front of Lucius, he quietly hissed through a lip-less mouth, “What have you done, Lucius?”

 

Bowing his blonde head in deference, Lucius said, “My Lord. I saw an opening to rid you of the Mud-blood and I took it. She will trouble you no more.”

 

The Dark Lord said nothing, then growled, “She was to be taken alive, you fool! Crucio!”

 

Lucius fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Every muscle in his body spasmned and jolted violently. He bit his lip to keep from screaming, then gave it up for a lost cause. It would be better in the long run since the Dark Lord reveled in the pain he caused and to deny him that pleasure would only lead to a longer punishment. Finally, it was over and he was left panting and sweating in the dirt.

 

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he gasped, still in the thrall of the curse. “I thought only to please you.”

 

“Please me?” He hissed angrily. “We could have used her as leverage against that brat, Potter. For a Mud-blood, she is quite intelligent and has become Potter's strength and knowledge. Knowing we had her captured and secure would have devastated the boy, making him weak. She was then to be given to Dolohov after she had served her purpose. You knew all of this!”

 

Lucius struggled to keep the bile rising in his throat from pouring forth. He wasn't sure if it was an after-effect of the curse, or the thought of Hermione Granger in the hands of that sadist, Dolohov. Probably a combination of both.

 

“I demand satisfaction for his interference,” Dolohov exclaimed through clenched teeth, madness in his eyes.

 

Draco dare not make a move to assist his father for fear of incurring that insane monster's wrath. It took a moment but, his father did manage to pull himself to his knees, placing himself in a position of supplication. It pained him to see his proud father forced into such humiliation. They were of one of the most Noble Houses of the Wizarding World, while this creature before them was nothing in comparison, especially when it came to the issue of blood.

 

Not that blood mattered when it came to wielding powerful magic. Voldemort and Granger had that common denominator between them. If what his father had told him was true, and he had no reason to think otherwise, Granger hadn't even begun to delve into the depths of her power. According to several conversations he'd overheard between his parents, she wouldn't come into her own until her final year at Hogwarts. If she could rid their world of this demented being, Draco would gladly kiss her Muggle-born feet.

 

As if hearing his thoughts, Voldemort's head swiveled toward him and Draco had but a second to protect his wayward thoughts before he felt the battering ram of the other wizards’ power crash forcefully against his mind. He was able to do what he'd been taught, throw up the shields but still allow only the thoughts to be seen that he chose to be seen. He must have succeeded because the Dark Lord chuckled.

 

“Ah, I see you agree with my punishment of your father,” Voldemort exclaimed in delight. “You were hoping to have the Mud-blood for yourself after Dolohov had finished with her and Lucius' interference will now prevent that from happening.”

 

Draco was helpless to prevent the blush coloring his ashen cheeks. _That_ thought was not meant to have been seen although having been taken woefully out of context, it served an ideal purpose in this situation. Glancing at his father, he found him staring back through a veil of blonde locks twisted with dirt and debris. Surprisingly, there was no disgust in his gaze, no disappointment, merely a wry sort of acceptance and understanding graced his features before the mask of stoicism settled there once again.

 

“There will be no dueling amongst my followers today,” The Dark Lord declared, much to Dolohov's disappointment. “Where is her body? We will send it back to Potter, but before doing so, we will defile her in ways that will destroy Potter and his puny Order. They will weep! They will wail, and her death with make them vulnerable!”

 

Head still bowed, nearly touching the forest floor, Lucius ventured to say, “She is gone, my Lord. When the curse struck her, she was sent back through the Door of Veils.”

 

There was a collective gasp from the others. Even Dolohov looked rattled. The Door of Veils had never been seen by a living soul and yet Malfoy was claiming that he'd sent the Mud-blood through it? Impossible! No one knew of its exact location.

 

“You lie,” Voldemort exclaimed with certainty, raising his arm once more to dispense his own form of punishment.

 

“My Lord,” Lucius dared to say. “You have but to see into my mind to glean the truth of it. I would not lie to you. You are my Lord and I serve you in all things, in all ways.”

 

“Rise,” Voldemort commanded. Lucius stumbled slightly, but managed to right himself. “For your sake _and_ your son's, it best be so.”

 

It took all of Lucius' strength to hold true to the memory of blasting Hermione backward and not to let him see anything other than the fight at the Ministry. It was several agonizing minutes, worse than even the Cruciatus curse, of brutally shifting and rampaging through his thoughts until, finally, it was over.

Sweat coursed down his cheeks. He veered to the side, almost falling to the ground but a hand on his elbow prevented that final indignity.

 

“He speaks the truth,” Voldemort informed his followers. “I wonder, Lucius, how did you find this elusive Door of Veils? It has been little more than a myth for tens of thousands of years.”

 

“I know not, my Lord,” Lucius panted, his world spinning from the double onslaught he'd just received.  “I struck her with the curse and as she was pushed back, the door appeared behind her. My grandfather told me stories, and so I recognized it from the little glimpse I was able to get of it before she passed through.”

 

Suspicious, Voldemort insisted, “No one knows what to look for when it comes to the Door of Veils. No living soul in history has ever seen and lived to tell of it. If I had not looked into your mind to discover the truth for myself, I would not believe you. Even so, I find it difficult to take your word that it _was_ the Door of Veils in which she fell.”

 

The grip on his elbow tightened, and while Lucius was grateful for its support, he shrugged the hand away as a familiar voice intervened. “My Lord, if I may?”

 

“Yes, Severus, you have something of import to add?”

 

“I too have heard the stories and descriptions of this Door. It is not unlike the myth of Atlantis, which to this day, still enchant the Muggles though its existence has never been proven. Even so, descriptions of this lost civilization abound in their literature. It could well be the same with this Door. Perhaps myth and legend have overshadowed fact and those who have witnessed its reality have been ridiculed to the point of silence on the matter. If so, Lucius could very well have been able to ascertain, even briefly, the existence of this Door through stories passed down from generations. It is not out of the realm of possibility.”

 

There was a moment of silence and then the Dark Lord said, “Yes, it is possible. I will allow for that much at least. Your supposition holds merit. It matters not now, for the Mud-blood is dead and that fact alone will affect the entire workings of the Order.”

 

Bowing slightly, Severus requested, “If I may see to your willing servant, my Lord?”

 

“Let us return to the Manor,” Voldemort commanded his followers. Looking directly into Severus' face, he added, “You may then ease Lucius' discomfort. Young Malfoy,” his disturbing gaze swinging once again to Draco. “Assist your father with Apparating. It would not do for him to splinch himself.”

 

“Of course, my Lord,” he readily agreed, moving to the side of his father who was trying valiantly not to lean heavily against his god-father lest he appear weak to all those gathered round. “Father,” he murmured, “allow me to offer my services.”

 

“I need no assistance,” Lucius dismissed him brusquely, but Draco took no offense, especially when he noticed the rare gleam of approval in the Dark Lord's crimson eyes. Straightening his spine, Lucius stood tall once more, his face bland. “Lord Voldemort has requested we retire to Malfoy Manor, so let us not tarry.” So saying, he Apparated away.

 

* * *

 

 Hermione tumbled out onto the floor of another unfamiliar room although this one seemed far more welcoming than the one from which she had just come. A large bedroom of sorts. Jumping to her feet, she checked her body for any injuries and other than the stinging in her side, found none. Her next order of business was in locating her wand. Scrambling at her thigh hilt, she found it empty. Oh no! She'd been holding it while being sucked into that mirror, or veil or, whatever the hell that thing was. Quickly she turned toward the device that had spat her out only to find herself staring back at a complete stranger.

 

She was beautiful. Dark curly hair reaching almost to the waist of her light green nightgown. Startled eyes, an indiscernible color, were wide with apprehension. She looked frightened, ready for flight. Hermione reached out in an attempt to reassure her, jumping back when the other young woman raised her own in tandem. Immediately, Hermione dropped into a crouch of self-defense wishing desperately for her wand. Still, she was no slouch when it came down to hand-to-hand combat – silently thanking Sirius for all those lessons – and this slight creature before her looked easy enough to take down if need be.

 

Hermione was not prepared for the strange girl to follow her exact example and drop to her haunches, baring her teeth in a way that gave Hermione pause. Clearly, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Hermione still felt she had the advantage. The other girls' nightgown was long and could easily be used against her since her range of motion would be seriously hindered.

 

Hermione's own attire consisted of a pair of well-worn jeans and a t-shirt. Shoved in the back of those jeans was a holster presented to her by Remus for her sixteenth birthday. He'd made it with his own hands and Sirius had bestowed on her a stunning silver dagger to go with it. They'd requested that she keep it on her always, and she had given her solemn promise to do so.

 

She didn't think she was going to have to use it on this strange girl, but flexed her fingers in anticipation of drawing it forth, just in case. Curiously enough, the girl did the same. Brow furrowed, Hermione couldn't help but think something was off, something was very, very off.

 

“Who are you,” she demanded and was stunned when the other girl echoed the same question.  “Where am I?” Again, the question was turned back on herself. Slowly, Hermione unfolded her body from its crouch until she stood at her full height of five foot three, while the woman opposite her, mirrored her every move.

 

Mirroring? Could… could this be… could she be… No, it's a ridiculous thought. Still, it couldn't hurt to test this ridiculous theory of hers. Slowly she raised a hand, and watched as the woman followed suit. Tentatively, Hermione pressed her fingertips to the advancing fingers of the unknown woman only to discover not the warmth of another person, but the cold, unyielding surface of what she now knew was glass. It _was_ a mirror! A mirror that took up a large portion of the wall! That would mean… Hermione gasped, jumping back, goosebumps breaking out over her skin.

 

“What is happening,” she whispered in horror. “What is happening,” she asked again, louder, voice breaking. The face opposite her had grown desperate and its expression held untold anguish. Gripping her hair, Hermione fell to her knees, voice rising in volume as she asked the same question over and over again, panic and unreasonable fear taking her over, dragging her under.

 

Warm arms embraced her, she fought against them.  Soothing words of comfort were whispered in her ear, she ignored them. She screamed until her throat felt raw, until something was pressed to her mouth and she was forced to swallow a vile concoction she dimly recognized as a calming draught.

 

“No, no, no,” she pushed the vial away, frantic to the point of hysteria.

 

“Please, dearest,” a composed but determined voice insisted. “Only a little more.”

 

Enough of the potion had been swallowed that Hermione had begun to feel the effects. Unable to fend off further attempts to force the potion on her, she swallowed the remainder without further struggle.

 

“There's a good girl,” the voice commended her, softly stroking the hair back from her forehead. “You're safe, you're safe.”

 

“Where am I,” she mumbled, relaxed to the point of unconsciousness. Must have been one powerful draught for her body to be so heavy and so fluid all at the same time. She pried her eyes open to see the slightly swimming face of a lovely woman looking back with a concerned expression. “Who are you?”

 

She felt someone take her hand. It was warm, and helped ease the chill embracing her body. “You're with us, here at the estate. Father went for you last week to bring you home to us.”

 

“Home,” she replicated the word, a hollow, empty sound.  

 

“That's enough, James,” another voice ordered firmly, yet there was a kindness to it that took away any sting behind the words. “Back to bed. Allow your Mother and me to handle this.”

 

“But...” he began to argue. “You know she sleeps better when I'm here.”

 

“And _you_ know that it is totally unacceptable to be in a young lady's bedchamber unchaperoned,” the woman who held her bit out angrily. “If it were known, it could ruin Ivy's reputation beyond repair!”

 

“No one will care, Mum,” the boy, James, retorted. “Besides, what does it matter? She's my affianced, so her reputation is safe with me.”

 

“Will you take your son out of this room, Charlus before I hex him two ways to Sunday for his impertinence,” exclaimed the woman as her arms tightened protectively around Hermione.

 

Grabbing James by the ear, ignoring his aggrieved, mutterings of 'ow, dad, stop', Charlus replied solicitously, “Yes, dear.”

 

Hermione felt the woman heave a deep sigh, her fingers running slowly through Hermione’s long dark hair in a way that almost put her to sleep. “That boy will be the death of me, I swear.” It was said with amused indulgence. Pressing a soft kiss to Hermione's forehead, she asked, “Was it another nightmare, dearest?”

 

This whole thing was a nightmare! She was so confused! Charlus? James? Affianced?!

 

“Are... are you Dorea Potter,” Hermione asked hesitantly.

 

The stroking fingers stopped, taking her chin in hand, Dorea lifted until Hermione's eyes met an unfamiliar, worried gaze. “Did you fall? Hit your head?”

 

“I might have,” Hermione supplied weakly, not keen on being interrogated.  Had she'd fallen into the past? It was a sound explanation for what was happening, but why didn't she resemble herself? Harry's grandmother had referred to her as Ivy as well. Strange.

 

“Perhaps a trip to St. Mungos is in order,” Dorea mused. “Can you stand, dear?”

 

“I believe so,” Hermione answered, leaning heavily against the older woman until she got her bearings.

 

“Let's get you dressed and I'll send Tilly to inform your uncle that I'm taking you to St. Mungos.”

 

At the sound of her name, a house -elf appeared saying, “Yous be needing me, mistress?”

 

“Oh no,” Hermione exclaimed, “I think a little rest is all I require.”

 

Holy hell! She didn't even _sound_ like herself!  Ron would laugh himself into a goiter if he could hear the posh accent coming from her mouth!

 

Eyeing her carefully from head to toe, Tilly quietly said, “Yous is not yourself, young mistress. Tilly can sees this plainly. Mungo’s be no help to yous.”

 

Hermione stiffened. Could this house-elf tell she wasn’t really this Ivy person? How should she play this? Merlin, this whole thing was as crazy as she felt. If she _had_ tumbled back in time, then it was imperative to keep the events of the future to herself so as not to upset the balance or create a butterfly effect. Oh, Merlin, this was giving her a head-ache.

 

If time-travel were the answer, then she’d have to have gone back at least twenty years or so. If that were the case, then how could this Ivy girl be engaged to Harry’s dad when he’d been hopelessly smitten with Lily Evans since their first year at Hogwarts? Oh, her head really was throbbing.

 

Once seated on the edge of the bed, Hermione asked, “Is there a head-ache potion available for my use?” She cringed. She sounded posh _and_ whiny.

 

“Of course, dearest. Tilly…” the words were barely out of James’ mom’s mouth and the elf was back by her side, potion in hand.

 

Hermione obediently tilted her head back, allowing Tilly to tip the vial until she’d emptied it of its contents. The ache behind her eyes and temples immediately began to recede. “You have my thanks, Tilly,” Hermione smiled at her gratefully but was disturbed to see no answering smile.

 

After a tense moment, the hardness evaporated from those large,a bit  unblinking eyes. “Yous be most welcome, young mistress. Tilly takes care of yous, no matter whos yous is. Kindness come from yous.”

 

Dorea, it seemed, noticed nothing unusual in this exchange because she gently pushed Hermione back into a pile of the softest pillows she’d ever lain on and said, “Have no fear, dearest. All is well. Your Uncle and I will take excellent care of you, and James has barely let you out of his sight since you’ve arrived even if he has been a presumptuous, fool-hardy boy by sneaking into your room at night.” Giving a huff of laughter, she added with a twinkle in her eyes. “As if he could fool me, that one. His father may have been a Gryffindor, but I’m the one with the Marauders’ streak; Slytherin’s like to play too.”

 

Hermione blinked. The surprise must have shown on her face, because Dorea let out a string of bell-like laughter. “You didn’t know?” Hermione shook her head. “Well, James has this silly notion that no house other than Gryffindor is worthy of expounding its virtues. It’s no wonder he didn’t tell you, but you shall see soon enough for yourself. It would serve the little beggar right if you were sorted into my former House.”

 

Mistaking Hermione’s shiver of distaste for being cold, Dorea pulled the duvet higher, tucking the scalloped edges more firmly around Hermione’s shoulders. “Now then, sleep is what you need.” Hermione let out a tired sigh. This was all so much. She was exhausted, confused and even a bit frightened, but she felt safe here, as odd as that sounded. Placing a small, comforting kiss to her temple, Dorea, whispered against her skin, “Sleep, little one. Sleep.”

 

Hermione surprised herself by doing just that.


	2. Domina Luminis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius and Severus have a conversation regarding the aftermath of Hermione's disappearance. Back at Grimmauld, another conversation between Sirius and Remus take place on the same issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks in this chapter there will be Ginny, Ron and Molly bashing. You have been warned.

Chapter 2

 

“Stop fussing like an old woman,” Lucius exclaimed, while pushing the hand that held the potion away from his face.

“If you would stop behaving like an idiotic, ill-tempered child and just drink the damn potion, I wouldn't have to hover over you,” was Severus' clipped rejoinder. “Now, please refrain from acting like a first year and take it, unless you prefer I administer it via your arse.”

Giving a small amused snort, Lucius took the vial and swallowed its contents, grimacing at the after-taste. “If you could discover a way to make it taste less like arse, I'd be more inclined to drink it.” Lucius felt the effects immediately. His body no longer felt as if it were a live-wire, his muscles relaxed while the pain receded to tolerable. “Thank you, Severus. What news of the Order?”

“At present, they are tending to their wounded back at Grimmauld. _Almost_ everyone is in quite a state over the disappearance of Miss Granger. Potter is extraordinarily bereft, as was to be expected.” Severus exclaimed angrily, “That boy is far too impetuous. Running to the Ministry without thinking it through. Will he never learn?”

“While I share your disdain for his decision making, all is proceeding as our Domina Luminis has foretold,” Lucius reminded his old friend. “Sadly, it will be quite some time until anything will change in this world. Years perhaps.”

“I believe we could be wrong on that count.” At Lucius' questioning look, Severus continued. “I've been doing research on dimensional travel and, although there isn't much out there on the subject matter, it is quite possible that time moves in an entirely different formation here than it does there.”

“Are you saying that a year and a half for us, might very well be shorter or longer where Miss Granger has gone?”

“Precisely,” Severus' intoned. “I do believe that if I am correct in my summation, then Miss Granger will return earlier rather than later. I've come to this conclusion based on the frequency and intensity of the dreams that our Domina is now sending. While the dreams had abated somewhat over the years, they have begun again in earnest.”

Lucius said unnecessarily. “I too have been receiving messages from our Domina Luminis. More frequently as of late. They are more intense and more detailed than ever before. It is as if the closer her time of departure neared, the more powerful she had become. Do you think Black and Lupin have been experiencing the same phenomenon?”

“Undoubtedly,” Severus drawled with a look of distaste. “They have been in closer proximity to Miss Granger than we. Even a dunderhead such as Black will have been aware of who Miss Granger is, although she hasn't manifested the personality nor the latent power of our Domina. Lupin must immediately have sensed her as his werewolf abilities are well honed.”

“Your reasoning is sound. As a werewolf, Lupin's tendency toward pack mentally would recognize her as his Alpha.” Lucius murmured reflectively, “I wonder how he has dealt with that knowledge all of these years, especially since there has been a new sense of urgency about our Domina's messages that wasn't there before. His natural inclination would be to protect her at all costs and Miss Granger has been in the middle of dangerous events since the tender age of twelve.”

“The little chit seems to attract it,” Severus mused. “Being in Potter's inner circle has only added to those dangerous escapades. It must take every ounce of Lupin's control to not whisk her away and hide her from all of this.”

“Yes,” Lucius said with a frown. “I don't know if I could have prevented those protective impulses as well as he. Black must be going half insane with it. Azkaban has affected his mind and body to the extent that his control will have been seriously weakened.”

Severus snorted. “That mutt has always been problematic, even in the other world he lacked control.” He added grudgingly, hating having to give Black any sort of credit, “Despite Azkaban and his infantile nature, he manages, though barely, to keep himself in check. From what little I have observed, Miss Granger and he tend to rub each other the wrong way.”

Lucius chuckled. “It appears as if not much has changed then. Their relationship was quite volatile until she managed to bring him to heel. What of Lupin?”

“Their relationship is quite different,” Severus informed him. “Miss Granger is genuinely fond of him and perhaps it has to do with the fact that they are dawn together intellectually, or it could be that on a deeper level she recognizes him as Pack. It's difficult to tell with any degree of accuracy.”

“And, what of the Potter boy,” Lucius inquired with a raised brow. “How does he view Miss Granger?”

Rolling his eyes while heaving an exaggerated sigh, Severus drawled heavily, “He exhibits signs of being romantically enamored of her, much to Molly Weasley's dismay.” Thin lips twisting into a self-satisfied smirk, he added, “It's quite humorous actually. The way that woman plots and plans is ridiculous when in the end, those of us who do know the truth, know it will all come to naught.”

“It is unsurprising that young Potter finds himself drawn to her. Although the James Potter of this world is no more...” Severus flinched. “... The bond has clearly passed to his heir. Draco finds himself equally drawn to the young woman although he has tried to hide that attraction.”

“It will soon be time to bring you both into the Orders' confidence,” Severus said. “I am hesitant simply because they do not fully trust me, let alone two more Death-eaters joining their ranks. Lupin and Black’s support will benefit our cause, but you will be scrutinized most deeply, especially by Moody. He is the suspicious sort and Potter will be reluctant on the basis of his history with Draco.”

Lucius nodded, well aware that since Draco's gesture of friendship on the Hogwarts Express had been rebuffed, that both boys took to making life as difficult for each other as possible. “Until our Domina's return, do you think we can keep up this charade of allegiance to the Dark Lord?”

“We have been able to do so thus far. I see no complication there unless Draco manages to be compromised before the appointed time.”

“He will not,” Lucius argued stridently on his son's behalf. “Between your lessons in training his mind and his parental training of advanced magic along with the gradual release of information pertaining to future consequences if the Dark Lord succeeds, he is ready and well-prepared.”

“Good. We will all need to be at optimum strength.”

“She has taught us well, and continues to do so,” Lucius replied with a slight smile. “I remember the first time I became aware of her presence; it was in Flourish & Blotts during Draco's second year. I was insulting the Weasleys and her outrage on their behalf was palatable. I felt a pang in my chest, but quelled it because I should not feel such anxiety over upsetting a Mud-blood. At that point, I didn’t recognize what was happening until the dreams started not long afterward. Even then, I refused to believe their content. It was only when you started to speak of the dreams you were experiencing, that I realized they were nearly identical to my own, and that it could not be a mere coincidence.”

“Yes,” Severus began slowly. “That is approximately when I became aware, although I knew Miss Granger was gifted in her magical ability her first year as a student. However, then I was able to ignore the twinges I was feeling. I believe her friendship with Potter had me deluding myself to the possibility of her true nature for quite some time.”

“Still holding a grudge, I see,” Lucius replied with a smirk. Severus' face turned grim.

Lucius knew of the enmity between the elder Potter and Black. He had witnessed first-hand, in this world, their run-ins with his friend and their nasty escapades disguised as 'pranks'. Yet, they both knew that the Potter boy was to be a big part of the plan unfolding although neither he nor Severus knew what exactly would occur once Miss Granger returned. They knew to be ready and that it would be something monumental.

“You must attempt to curb this pettiness,” Lucius insisted. “Those days are in the past. You would be wise to leave them there.”

“Pettiness?!” Severus exclaimed, disbelief and anger twisting his features. “You dare call what those buffoons did to me while in school 'pettiness?' Even now, when they are aware that I am on their side of this on-coming war, they maintain their vileness toward me. I dare you to say otherwise.”

“They are caught up in this dimensions' history, just as you are, and both of your actions reflect that fact. They hold you just as responsible for the death of the Potters as they do that rodent, Pettigrew. Dumbledore has not revealed the part you actually did play but he has been exploiting it ever since you confessed to him. Our Domina has made to clear that we are to trust him up to a point, but that her communications with us via dreams and visions, must not be revealed to that old man.”

“I doubt very much that Black and Lupin have held back and kept quiet. They virtually worship the ground that fraud trods.”

“I disagree,” Lucius claimed. “The shine has been dimming as to their devotion and belief in the older man. Black, especially has grown weary of the restrictions he has put on him and on his relationship with the Potter boy. You know this better than I, having seen this for yourself. I merely witness through your eyes and I can tell what I say is true.”

“Perhaps,” Severus conceded. “Lupin still harbors resentment for Dumbledore sending him to infiltrate the werewolf community, which in turn, left his dearest friend to eventually believe the worst of him. Leaving Black to rot in Azkaban without a trial when one word from the old goat could have exonerated him, has added to the gradual destruction of their faith in him.”

“The time is nigh for you to get them alone to discuss our Domina. To introduce me as an ally and to convince them to accept Draco and myself into their fold,” Lucius instructed Severus, ignoring the disgusted expression which flashed across Severus' countenance.

“Do you honestly think they will believe me,” Severus asked in barely veiled contempt.

“Lupin has been nothing but understanding and has made attempts to reach out to you in an effort to meet on a more equal footing. Black remains who he is, a member of the Black family with a temperament to match.” With a wry twist to his lips, Lucius added, “I married one, so I am well aware of their temper and stubbornness, although Cissa is more thoughtful, more Slytherin in her actions. Black is a loose bludger, that is true, but he's still central to our Domina's plan. Make an effort, Severus even if he rebuffs you at first. He is subject to our Domina's will the same as you and I. He will, with Lupins' help, begin to integrate the life we shared in our Domina's dimension with the one in the here and now.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus acknowledged, looking pained at having to say it. “I realize that what you are saying is true; that we must all come together for the common good. Lupin, I will be able to do stand more easily than Black. He didn't actually participate in all of the bullying and I have actually grown to have a smidgen of respect for the other man. Black, on the other hand, working effectively with him without animosity on both our ends, will prove to be problematic.”

Nodding in understanding, Lucius continued, “You must also play nice with the Potter boy.” Severus grimaced again. “He is Miss Granger's companion just as his father's doppelganger was Domina's companion.”

“It could easily have been otherwise,” Severus snapped back.

“True,” was Lucius' succinct answer, “but dwelling on what might have been, is pointless and useless. That being the case, we must respect the importance that Potter and several others will play in the master plan. I implore you, Severus to grow beyond this childish vendetta and embrace the future instead of clinging to the past.”

Severus slumped into a near-by chair looking exhausted. “She says the same,” he whispered. “I feel her disappointment in me acutely. She's been sending me memories that make me hate myself for treating Potter so abominably, but then I remember those are from another life and hold no merit in this one, which only angers and disappoints her even more.”

Placing a comforting hand on the other mans' shoulder, Lucius spoke with sympathy for his friend in a clear and concise voice, “I will not ask that you befriend them on an intimate level, I will not ask the impossible of you. I only request that you work side by side with them in harmony and not allow yourself to be bated by Black's remarks. Be the bigger wizard, Severus and let this bitterness rest once and for all.”

“If only it were as easy as you make it sound,” the other wizard groaned.

“It is about as easy as attempting to overcome the indoctrination of blood-prejudice since birth. None of this is easy, Severus. We were well aware of that fact when we pledged ourselves to Domina Luminis. None of us was coerced, we entered her service willingly.”

“In another life we entered her service willingly!” Severus corrected bitterly. “This life should be my own! That pledge was not meant to traverse other dimensions! I did not pledge my service to her here in this one!

“Of course you did, you fool!” Lucius' visage turned savage. “Our souls are bound to her! Bound to her through blood and magic stronger and more thoroughly than any blood-oath! You know she would never have called on that bond in this life if it were not imperative. She would never willingly take our choices from us! She is not that cruel, Severus! If you do not bend to your promised oath, it will destroy you! Is that what you want? Are you so riddled with guilt over the Evans' girl’s death after all this time that you wish for your own?”

The other wizard shot from his chair, grabbing Lucius by his robes, snarling, “The day I informed the Dark Lord of the prophecy, I destroyed the one thing I held most dear and I am forever broken by that deed! All I have are my memories of when Lily and I were of one mind, when our friendship was untouched by prejudice and house divisions. You were a part of that divisiveness, Lucius! A day did not go by where you weren't constantly badgering me about my Mud-blood friend and calling into question my loyalty to my House and house-mates! Your snide comments, and those of other Slytherins, chipped away at my resolve to remain true to my friendship with someone who dared to not be born with pure blood and outside of the Wizarding community.” Tears of anger mixed with unbearable sorrow stood out in the dark depths of the agonized wizards' eyes. “You have no right to reference her! Do not ever speak to me of Lily again or I will not be held accountable for the consequences!”

In a cold voice, Lucius countered, “I played my part in the destruction of your friendship; that is true. I freely admit to it. However, had you not had your own doubts, nothing would have come of my interference or anyone elses' for that matter. Miss Granger has been condemned left and right for her friendship with the Potter boy but her loyalty has never wavered. When he was unjustly reviled by friends, school-mates, and the press; she stayed true. Lies have been written about her and her name bandied about with an ugliness that tarnished her reputation to the point that even those who claim to love her, believed them, and still she stayed genuine to her friend in the face of it all.”

Despite Severus' clear devastation at his words, Lucius brutally continued. “If you look into that dark void you call a heart, you will see the truth there. The truth that you don't dare admit to yourself, even now. You repudiated your friend because you were a coward. You now follow that cowardly act with the equally cowardly one of risking your own life out of spite for those you continue to hold in contempt. You would rather lose your very existence than make amends to them.”

Changing tactics, Lucius added earnestly, “Severus, it need not continue to be so. Our Domina Luminis can fill that void in your heart. She can make you new, my friend. You know this. If only you would embrace the truth. Instead of following our Domina's plan because it is deemed so by the bond, follow her willingly with the intent to do good for this world.” Grasping his head firmly between his hands, Lucius forced him to meet his direct gaze. “Peace will follow in her wake. Forgiveness will heal your tattered, scorched soul. You will finally be free, my friend!”

Tears fell unabashedly down Severus face, then he crumpled into Lucius' embrace crying brokenheartedly into his shoulder, “I do not deserve such things.”

Cradling him tightly as he sobbed, Lucius proclaimed soberly, “Perhaps not yet, but you will my friend. You will.”

 

* * *

 

  
Even amongst the pandemonium, Remus had enough sense to shuffle a distraught Harry into the privacy of the library. Grimmauld was awash with Order members and Aurors, and Remus needed privacy for the ensuing conversation. So, he left those wounded in the care of the Weasley's and Madame Pomfrey who was called immediately upon their return. Thankfully, Dumbledore was too busy explaining the events at that occurred at the Ministry before their arrival to notice their absence.

“We have to go back! We can't leave her there!”

Remus had to physically restrain the boy who was intent on returning to the Ministry to save his most trusted friend. “Harry! Harry! Calm down,” Remus commanded, trying to get through to him. The boys’ hysteria was heart-breaking. “Stop this! Hermione's going to be okay.”

Stunned, Harry exclaimed, “Okay?! She could be in the hands of Death-eaters! Or ... or wounded and needing my help! I saw her fall, Remus! Malfoy's curse hit her! I saw it!”

The library door burst open before Remus could say another word. Sirius strode in, face grim. “It's happened, hasn't it?”

“Yes,” Remus confirmed, looking forbidding. “Sirius, we have to tell him.”

“What?! Tell me what? Let me go,” Harry begged as he began to struggle anew. “I have to save Hermione. She was hit, Sirius! I saw it!”

Grabbing Harry by the shoulders, Sirius barked, “Calm yourself!” Caught off guard by his godfathers’ unusual harshness with him, Harry did just that. Palming the distressed boys cheek, Sirius assured him, “Hermione is alive and not in the hands of Death-eaters.”

It was the clear conviction in Sirius’ grey eyes that finally convinced Harry. He slumped into Remus’ arms and with a hopeful expression asked, “Was she taken somewhere safe? Where is she?”

Lips twisting into a wry half-smile, Sirius said, “That’s a bit more difficult to explain. I’d rather wait until Sniv…”

“Sirius,” Remus bit out in warning.

“Alright,” the other man grunted. “We should wait until Snape gets here before we tell you anything else.”

Brow furrowed in confusion, Harry asked, “What’s he got to do with anything? He was here earlier, then left. What’s going on?”

“Snape went to where the other Death-eaters and Voldemort gathered after the fight at the Ministry,” Remus explained. “He wanted to make sure that they believed that Hermione was dead.”

“But, she isn’t, right?” Harry wanted to make certain that she wasn’t harmed in any way.

“Come sit,” Remus suggested, leading him to the sofa. “You have our word that Hermione is alive. But, Harry, and this is vitally important, only a select few can know this. Not everyone in the Order, and definitely not the Aurors, with the exception of Dora, can be told.”

“Neither can Dumbledore,” Sirius added, gruffly. “It isn’t safe for our Domina for him to know.”

“Domina,” Harry repeated, confused.

“Agreed,” Remus was quick to defend Sirius’ suggestion. “There’s no telling how he would react, and we can’t risk it or Hermione.”

“What is going on,” Harry demanded in exasperation.

The older men sat on either side of the dark-haired boy. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Remus asked, “Have you noticed anything unusual lately when you’re close to Hermione.” Harry blushed, looking uncomfortable. “It’s okay, Harry. It’s normal for teen-aged boys to think about girls in a certain way.” Harry’s blush deepened. “Uh, the thing is, there’s a perfectly good reason for that other than Hermione is a lovely young woman.”

“What about your magic,” Sirius asked before Harry had a chance to answer Remus. “Has there been anything different or unusual with your magic?”

Feeling more comfortable with this line of questioning, Harry replied thoughtfully, “Yeah, it’s been really weird. It’s like my magic is stronger when she’s near and there’s this tingling, here.” He placed a hand on his chest. At first, I thought the tingling might be Voldemort’s doing, but it didn’t feel bad. It felt warm and safe. I don’t know if that makes sense or not.”

“It does,” Remus said with a smile. “What about dreams?”

“Well,” he began, then considered for a moment before continuing, “I don’t have dreams about Voldemort as much, which is great.”

“And, Hermione,” Sirius prodded gently. “Is she in your dreams?”

“I’d… I’d rather not talk about that,” Harry requested tentatively, unable to meet his godfathers gaze.

“Would it help if we told you that we’ve been dreaming of her as well?” Remus ventured to ask.

Harry’s tousled head shot up. “You’ve been having inappropriate dreams about Hermione?!” Two sets of eyebrows shot up. “You’re her professor for Merlin’s sake and you’re my godfather! That is wrong on so many levels!”

“Simmer down, it’s not like that,” Sirius soothed the irate boy. Well, not exactly like that, but he wasn’t about to inform Harry of that if this was how he was going to get on the subject. “Remus and I have been experiencing dreams where Hermione shows extraordinary magical power, and when Snape gets here we’ll go into more details.”

“Snape? What has that greasy git got to do with this?”

Sighing, Remus said, “A great deal as it happens. He and Lucius Malfoy have been, and are, playing a huge role in all of this.”

“Malfoy?!” Harry eyes went as huge as saucers before he began to shout, “You have got to be kidding me! He’s the one who attacked Hermione at the Ministry! What the hell is happening? I mean, come on, you really expect to believe that Malfoy is on our side?!”

“That is exactly what we expect,” instructed a voice coming from the vicinity of the fireplace. “If you wouldn’t mind taking your peevishness down a notch from bellowing, please. We don’t need the rest of them to come charging in here. It’s bad enough that Lupin insists on that klutz of an Auror being in the know.”

“She’s my mate, Severus,” Remus patiently spelled it out for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I can’t keep something of this magnitude from her. It would literally be painful for me, and if our Domina doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, then neither should you.”

“Pray tell, how do you know that she doesn’t have a problem with it,” he drawled the question with a sneer. Though upset by the potion masters words, Remus couldn't help but notice that the other man looked paler than usual, eyes red-rimmed.

“Because, you arsehole, he’d feel it,” Sirius snapped back. “You act as if you don’t already know that!”

“I’m missing something here,” Harry remarked slowly, to no one in particular. “What has happened to Hermione? Sirius and Remus say she's safe. Now, you say Malfoy is on our side. This is all so confusing! Can I get a straight answer from someone?”

“Harry,” a soft voice called from the doorway. “The Aurors want to speak with you, and Mum wants to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Gin,” Harry retorted, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “You can tell your Mum that I’m all in one piece, not a mark on me now that Voldemort isn’t trying to split my head open in two with his presence.”

Frowning, she replied, looking hurt, “There’s no need to be nasty about it. We’re just concerned.”

Jumping up from the sofa, he informed her with a sharp bite to his tone, “Save your concern for Hermione.” Abruptly pushing his way passed the red-head, he muttered bitterly, “That is, if you can muster up the energy to do that. I certainly wouldn’t want you or your Mum to strain yourselves.”

Ginny’s eyes glistened with tears at Harry’s remark, but he seemed immune as he stormed off to the kitchen. “Why is he treating me like this? I’ve done nothing but try to help and he’s still so… so awful and so angry at me all of the time.”

“Perhaps, he has finally realized that you merely pretend to like Miss Granger,” Severus supplied darkly.

Ginny’s head spun around, glaring at her professor she replied stridently, “That’s a lie. Harry knows that Hermione is one of my best friends! I am worried about her! We all are!”

Severus gave her a very searching look for several long minutes before answering her with a triumphant smile, “Lies. You are riddled with jealousy, and there is a small part of you that is relieved that Miss Granger is finally out of the way so that you and that mother of yours can finalize your asinine plans for Potter’s future. A future that you both intend he share with you.”

Through gritted teeth, Ginny exclaimed, “You’re the one telling lies!” Turning to the other men in the room, Ginny beseeched, eyes wide, “You know he’s lying, right? Hermione is my friend. You believe me, don’t you?”

Remus looked down at his shoes and said nothing. Sirius watched her carefully through narrowed eyes, before looking to Snape who gave a small incline of his head in answer to the other man’s silent query. Sirius transferred his gaze to her once more, and the expression gave Ginny serious pause; he looked murderous. Ginny’s face filled with a color that matched her hair perfectly. Fists clenched by her side, she stamped her foot and with a huff left the room.

The atmosphere was rife with tension until Remus asked quietly, “You saw?”

“I did,” was his prompt and confident reply. “Her fantasies concerning Potter are silly and trite, as would be those of any mindless school girl. It’s her mother who has planted most of them in her head, but that does not change the fact that they would do whatever it takes to get Potter and Miss Granger, if possible.”

“What do you mean,” Sirius demanded.

“Oh, Molly has grand plans in store for her as well,” Severus supplied, irking both Sirius and Remus with his lack of details.

“Out with it, man!” Sirius barked. “What sort of plans?”

“The sort that include that imbecilic, youngest son of hers.”

“ _Ron_?” Sputtered Remus, incredulous. “You can’t be serious. That would be a disastrous match.”

“Disastrous? It’d be downright catastrophic, not to mention exceedingly ridiculous!” Crossing his arms over his chest, Sirius continued, “That boy is a complete dunce and has no sense of loyalty whatsoever! Our girl will not be railroaded into marrying that one! I’ll make sure of it!”

“ _We’ll_ make sure of it,” Remus corrected gently.

Severus snorted. “They’ll be no need for a watch dog or a watch werewolf… our Domina will not be led so easily by that woman or any other person for that matter.”

“That will take some getting used to,” Remus said with wry affection for the young woman in question. “Most of the time I just want to carry Hermione off and keep her in a place that no one else knows about. The urge to keep my Alpha safe is excruciatingly strong. Thank Merlin for Dora. Without her steadying influence as my mate, I might have done something monumentally stupid.”

Flopping down on the nearest chair, Sirius exclaimed, “I understand, Moony. I pick fights with her just to off-set this instinctive drive to take, protect and ….” Sirius broke off, looking ashamed.

“I get it, Pads,” Remus supplied with quiet understanding. “We all feel like that, even me and I have Dora.”

“It is part of the bond,” Severus reminded them. “While I don’t find myself particularly drawn to Miss Granger in that fashion…” Sirius barked a disbelieving laugh. “… I do recognize the pull and am able to fend it off although not without a modicum of distress.”

“If you were cooped up with her day after day, it’d be a different story,” Sirius mockingly informed him. “I’d like to see you then, Snape. I have to turn into my Animagus form whenever I need to have physical contact with her, otherwise I get the evil eye from Molly and puzzled, disapproving looks from everyone else. When it hits Moony here, he rushes off to bed Nymphadora, who doesn’t complain one little bit although she has been looking a tad peaky and exhausted lately.”

Blushing furiously, Remus ran an agitated hand through his shaggy, rapidly greying locks. “How do you do it,” Remus asked, sounding pained. “How can you be that close to her as Padfoot with all those heightened senses? I mean, for me, it’s worse with the advent of the full moon.” He groaned. “So much worse, yet even without the moon’s pull on my wolf, the scent of her is gloriously intoxicating. Dora helps to keep me grounded, and I’m desperately thankful for that.”

Cocking his head to the side, Sirius said, “Her scent does drive me round the bend, that’s true, but I can deal with that; I’ve learned to control it a bit. I’ve had to because for me, it’s about touch, her touching me, I find myself being very tactile. The urge to have her close, our bodies connected in some fashion, outweighs everything else.”

Severus was surprised that these men, his former nemesis, would speak so openly in front of him of things of such a personal nature. _Former_ nemesis? Perhaps they were all starting to become more strongly connected since Miss Granger’s departure. It wasn't that he didn't still think that Black was a vile-natured, half-mad juvenile delinquent with narcissistic tendencies. He did. He pondered on the fact that those feelings were being tempered somewhat. He'd already been aware that in regard to Lupin, he'd been moving toward an understanding of sorts. And now, it seemed as if he was moving that way toward Black as well. Only at a much slower pace. Much slower. Still, it was a beginning. Lucius would be thrilled.

“Oh, there you all are,” Molly rushed in, looking haggard. “It's alright. Everyone’s' been tended to and the Auror's have just left. Harry seems so out of sorts. Could you come, Remus and try to maybe cheer him up a bit? Perhaps a good talking to, he's been most unpleasant to Ginny and goodness knows why.”

The three men looked at her as if she were a three-headed relative of Fluffy's. Then Sirius snapped. “Have you gone barmy, woman?” He advanced on her, arms flailing. Molly shrank back in alarm. “Of course he's out of sorts, he's worried about Hermione! What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?!”

Ample chest heaving, Molly exclaimed indignantly, “There's no need for that, Sirius Black! I'm just as concerned for Hermione's well-being as the rest of you! I'm only trying to keep up Harry's morale and the last time I checked that wasn't a criminal offense.”

Sirius was ready to lash out again, when the pressure of his friends' hand on his upper arm halted him. Sirius felt the small burst of Remus' magic, soothing and calm, like placing a cool towel on over-heated skin, effectively easing and diminishing his seething anger. Sirius covered it with his own hand, closing his eyes to better concentrate on their magic mingling in concert, bathing in the soft, gentle brush of their Domina as she reached out to lessen his urge to rip this woman to shreds. “ _Carefully_ ,” he heard her whisper in his mind. Taking in several deep breaths, Sirius was able to collect himself, shame filling him at his uncontrolled actions. “ _All is well, my acolythus_.”

Peacefulness flooded through him. From behind, Sirius heard Remus gasp and knew he was experiencing everything as well. Tears of gratefulness gathered in the corners of his eyes, but he’d be damned if Molly Weasley would be a witness to his weakness. A feather light caress slid slowly down the side of his face. _“No, no… there is no weakness in tears, clarissima mihi. Only indiscriminate violence brings shame.”_

“I love you, my Domina” he whispered back. “ _And I you… always_.” Sirius clutched at his chest when a love so overwhelmingly, blindingly brilliant filled every aspect of his being. Unable to physically withstand such power, he fell to his knees, and Sirius Black wept without shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not expert on Latin, so if there are mistakes, just breeze by them. This is not beta'd.
> 
>  
> 
> Domina Luminis - Lady of Light
> 
> Acolythus - Acolyte 
> 
> Clarissima Mihi - My Brilliant Star


	3. Magical Core

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James introduces Hermione to his best mates with surprising results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is looooong. I hope you enjoy!

When Hermione woke the next day, it was to a pounding in her temples and a foul taste in her mouth. Her thoughts were all muddled and for a few seconds she wasn't sure where she was until the bedroom door burst open and a figure made a beeline for her bed.

 

“By all that's Holy, Harry,” she screeched, clutching the blankets to her shaking form. “You frightened me!!”

 

Through a curtain of dark, tangled hair, eyes attempting to focus on her surroundings, Hermione saw Harry frown. An unfamiliar voice called her an unfamiliar name, “I'm sorry, Ivy. I suppose I was in too much of a hurry to make sure that you're okay and didn't even think that I might scare you. Who's Harry?”

 

Oh. My. God. The reality of her situation came crashing down upon her. She was somewhere else. _Someone_ else! How had she managed to get herself here?! Was she in the past? She wasn't sure, she just knew that this was Harry's _father_ and this Ivy person was engaged to him! Perhaps another dimension? She's never really thought about dimensional travel before although she'd read extensively on the subject under the guidance of Remus. What she did know was that in her time-line, James Potter married Lily Evans and eventually gave birth to her best friend.

 

“Harry is my best friend,” Hermione explained slowly.

 

Her eyes met James, and all she saw in them was warmth and concern. He was good-looking and Harry favored him physically to a tremendous degree. Not that she ever thought much on Harry's physical attributes because they didn't have that sort of relationship at all, but his father was looking at her as if the sun and moon rose out of her arse.

 

“ _Such language_ ,” a voice reprimanded her. Which shook her up pretty good since the voice was coming from inside of her head! “ _A lady does not speak such words_.”

 

“I am not a lady,” she argued insistently, also inside of her head. “I'm just me. Hermione Granger. Nothing extraordinary.” 

 

A melodic laugh followed her statement. “ _Oh, my dear… you are much, much more than you realize_.”

 

Fists clenched, Hermione demanded, “Who are you? Why are you in my head?”

 

“ _All will be revealed at the proper time,_ ” was the non-informative reply.

 

“Is this bloke someone I'm going to have to duel for your affections,” James asked with a playful smile, but his eyes showed serious intent.

 

“Harry's just a friend.” James' expression cleared of all concern. “Fact is, I'm not too certain I'll ever see him again. The circumstances which parted us were most unfortunate.”

 

Closing her eyes, Hermione was unable to hide the flash of dread and longing at possibly being separated from her best friend forever.

 

Mistaking her expression for fear, James whispered, sounding concerned, “Ivy, nothing can hurt you here.” Her eyes flew open when she felt the warmth of other fingers encase her still clenched hands, rubbing them soothingly until they relaxed. “You're safe here. I promise.”

 

He was so touchingly earnest, that something she couldn't put a name to, unfurled in her chest, traveling throughout her system, easing the tension in her body. “I'm so confused,” she uttered, lips trembling.

 

“That might still be the potion, my dear.” Similar dark heads swiveled to the doorway where James' mother stood, frowning her disapproval. “You shouldn't be sitting on Ivy's bed, you presumptuous boy.”

 

Rolling his pretty hazel eyes, James replied, “Come on, Mum. You know that's just silly, archaic Pure-blood nonsense.”

 

“Be that as it may, there is a proper way in which these situations are approached and adhered to especially since Ivy now resides with us,” his mother explained – again – in exasperation. “We are already breaching protocol by allowing you to remain in this wing of the manor.”

 

Snorting, James scooted closer to Hermione, saying, “Ivy thinks all of this is ridiculous too. Don't you, poppet?”

 

Poppet?! Oh brother. Hermione was torn between annoyance at the absurd nickname and an odd sort of reassurance and pride.  What was wrong with her? How could she even contemplate feeling the latter emotions because Hermione Granger did _not_ like nicknames.

 

Hadn't she spent a good portion of her time trying to break Sirius Black of his tendency to call her, princess? When he wasn't calling her that – when he was in an especially playful mood – he'd sketch a very low, very aristocratic bow, stating warmly, “Whatever, my lady commands.” It was equal parts annoying and charming. Remus usually gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs in retaliation. An act that Hermione appreciated.

 

It was bad enough that Harry and Ron sometimes called her 'Mione. Although, to be honest, that didn't bother her as much and maybe it was because it was Ron and Harry calling her that. It was sort of like their own special name for her. Ginny tried it out once, but before Hermione could tell her that was a no-go, Ron and Harry gave her identical glares while Harry insisted that she absolutely _not_ call Hermione anything other than Hermione.

 

Ginny had been so angry, that she hadn't talked to either boy for over a week. Mrs. Weasley had to run interference by explaining to the close-knit trio that Ginny often felt left out and just wanted to be a part of their little group. When Ron tried to explain to his Mum that the three of them shared a bond that no one else could ever hope to be a part of, not even his sister, Mrs. Weasley relented and spoke to Ginny at length until all seemed fine with everyone once more.

 

“Well, Ivy,” the older woman began, “ _Do_ you feel this is all nonsense?”

 

Completely out of her depth in regard to Pure-blood traditions, Hermione said slowly, “I suppose… there is merit in our traditions, yet I cannot deny that I do feel much safer and sheltered whenever James is near.”

 

The weird thing was, she did feel safer with Harry's father close by, and yeah that wasn't, odd at all.

 

James did his best to not throw his Mum a triumphant smile, but knew he was failing miserably.

 

The woman’s' face softened, “That was a very diplomatic answer, dearest. Perhaps a life of politics is in your future.”

 

James guffawed. “Really, Mum… Ivy in politics… that's just crazy. She'll be far too busy taking care of me and the children for such nonsense.”

 

“James!” Dora's voice cut across the room like a whip causing James to blanch. Striding purposefully toward her cowering son, she bit out angrily, “You will not speak of such things, my boy. Ivy is under no pressure to accept your suit, and you would do well to remember that fact, young man!

 

Hermione giggled. Hermione Granger giggled! Dorea's lips twisted ever so slightly on hearing her. “I'm sorry,” Hermione stated, biting her lip to keep it from becoming a full-fledged smile. “I suppose I haven't seen anyone this scared of their Mum since the Twins let all of their best fireworks loose in the house.”

 

“Twins,” James echoed.

 

“Uh, yes,” Hermione searched her brain for a way to salvage the situation. “Friends of mine from back home. They were always causing mischief of one sort or another. It drove their Mum nearly mental.”

 

“They sound like the all right sort,” James proclaimed. “Marauder material in the making.”

 

“They were wonderful, the best.” Hermione exclaimed, probably more fervently than she intended because Dorea's brow furrowed.

 

“ _Were_ , dearest,” Dorea asked gently and Hermione felt James fumble under the covers for her hands again, giving them another comforting squeeze.

 

Tears burned behind her closed eyes. Would she ever see the Twins again? What about Harry and Ron? The Burrow and all the people she loved there? Even Grimmauld held a special place in her heart because it housed the last two Marauders and she loved them both dearly.

 

“I… I…” She took a moment to collect herself. “I' m not sure if I'll ever see them again either. I fear they may be lost to me forever.”

 

“Oh, no. I'm so sorry, dearest,” Dorea exclaimed, seating herself, she pushed Hermione's hair back behind her ear. “They may be gone, and it might sound trite, but they remain in your heart and as long as they are there, they are always with you.”

 

Several tears made their way hotly down Hermione's cheek. She was grateful when James pulled her into a consoling hug, the heat from his body warming her chilled form. He really was very sweet and Hermione couldn't understand why it had taken Lily so long to figure that fact out. She supposed if this was a completely different world, that maybe this was a completely different James.

 

Clapping her hands together sharply, Dorea proclaimed smartly, “I think it's time for you to leave this room, my dear.” Hermione felt a sharp pang of fear. What did the doors beyond this bedroom hold for her? “Now, James and I will leave you and allow Tilly to assist you in your ablutions.”

 

“That's not necessary,” Hermione protested. “I'm quite capable of bathing and dressing myself. If you could just point me in the direction of the bathroom, please.”

 

“Mum,” James broke the sudden silence, “Maybe you _should_ have Ivy checked out at St. Mungos.”

 

“I'm perfectly fine,” Hermione insisted, frustrated at having Tilly _and_ St. Mungos pushed on her.

 

“Um, Ivy.” James began tentatively, giving her a slight squeeze, “We're worried because you've lived with us for the past week and should already know where the bathroom is located.”

 

Oh grief! How could she have made such a stupid mistake? Hermione now vaguely remembered the night before, James saying that his father had gone for Ivy a week ago, so of course, she would possess knowledge of the facilities whereabouts.

 

Thinking quickly, Hermione said while touching a hand to her forehead, feigning confusion, “It must be the lingering effects of the calming draught.”

 

Looking skeptical, Dorea said, slowly, “Perhaps. If that is the case, then it's even more important for Tilly to assist you.”

 

Giving in, Hermione said, “You're right, of course.”

 

Pleased with Hermione's acquiescence, Dorea smiled warmly, rising from the bed, pulling James along with her. “We'll be in the small dining area when you're ready to join us for lunch.”

 

Lunch? Had she slept that late into the morning? Hermione was generally an early riser.   She shouldn't have been surprised at her exhaustion. She had just been in a vigorous fight at the Ministry, found out she had traded places with another woman in possibly a different dimension, and was engaged to James-freaking-Potter. On top of that, she'd had a calming draught all but forced down her throat. So, yeah, no surprise at all.

 

Hermione pulled back the covers, swinging her legs over the side, a loud POP made her squeak in surprise.

 

“Tilly sorry, young mistress. Tilly meant no harm. Tilly come to help the young mistress ready herself for lunch.”

 

Steadying the rapid beating of her heart, Hermione said, “That's all right, Tilly. I'm a bit jumpy after last night and I think I'm feeling the after effects of the draught.”

 

Through narrowed, large unblinking eyes, Tilly replied shrewdly, “Young mistress is clear-headed enough. Tilly knows why you fibbed to Mistress and young master.”

 

Dropping her head in her hand, Hermione admitted tiredly, “Okay, Tilly. You and I both know that I'm not your young mistress. I'm not exactly sure what's happened to her.”

 

“True young mistress still there, I sees her.”

 

“You do,” Hermione gasped, feeling hopeful at her situation for the first time.

 

Nodding her bulbous head, Tilly continued knowingly. “Oh, yes. She be there,” pointing in the vicinity of her chest. “She be sleeping now.”

 

“Do you know who I am, how this happened?” Hermione asked in trepidation.

 

“Tilly knows yous don't belong here. Tilly knows you mean no harm to Tilly's family. Strong magic in you, young mistress, Tilly sees this clearly.”

 

“Do you know how I can get home,” Hermione asked, begged if she were being honest. “I… I have to get back. There's a War happening in my home world and Harry needs me desperately!”

 

“Yes, yous has battled,” Tilly agreed, “Tilly sees the scar.”

 

Instinctively, Hermione's hand flew to her side where Malfoy had hit her with the curse. “It doesn't hurt anymore,” she assured the visibly distraught elf.

 

“Young mistress will have the mark always. Never fade. Powerful magic mark you.”

 

“Dark magic, I'm afraid,” Hermione informed her.

 

Shaking her large head side-to-side, Tilly replied, “Meaning no disrespect, young mistress, this not Dark magic. Tilly knows difference. This be magic from Founding family yous be linked to.”

 

“Founding family?” Hermione was confused. 'I don't understand. In my world I'm a Muggle-born, so how could I be a part of a Founding family?”

 

Shaking her head again, Tilly insisted firmly, “Tilly sees what Tilly sees. You bear the signature of the Peverells.”

 

“That's impossible,” Hermione sputtered. “Didn't you hear me? I'm Muggle-born!”

 

“Tilly hears just fine,” the elf snapped. “True young mistress is of Peverell lineage. Yous may be Muggle-born in other world, but here yous be different.”

 

“But, I’m not really her!” Hermione was starting to get rattled, voice rising.

 

“Hush,” Tilly commanded, looking toward the closed bedroom door. “Mistress come with sleep medicine if yous begins with the screaming.”

 

That had the desired effect. Hermione took several long, deep breaths which actually did help a bit. “What am I going to do, Tilly?”

 

“Yous must be young mistress whilst yous be here,” she said matter-of-fact. 

 

“I’ll never get away with it indefinitely,” Hermione stage-whispered dramatically. “Someone will find out!”

 

“Young master sees his lady not often,” Tilly explained. “Just young ones last time they meets.”

 

Confused, Hermione said, “He acts as if we’ve known each other all of our lives. I mean, I remember him saying that I slept better with him in the room, so I naturally assumed that I was on a very intimate level with all of them.”

 

“Yous be family. Cousins. Yous betrothed since cradle.” Hermione frowned, not liking that one little bit. “Yous heard Mistress. Yous no marry young master if not want to.”

 

“I don’t want to marry anyone,” Hermione declared with a determined jut to her chin. “I don’t even _know_ these people. Aside from that, I’m much too young to be thinking of marriage.”

 

Tilly snorted. “Yous be of age soon. No needs to wait. Young master is keen on yous, he won’t wants to wait, not that one.”

 

Putting her hands on her hips, Hermione, “It isn't all about bloody James Potter, for Merlin's sake! I only knew him in my world through stories and he was an arrogant git then; spoiled rotten!”

 

Tilly smiled her first genuine smile since Hermione arrived. “Tilly likes this young mistress very much,” she said, eyes filled with approval. “Yous be keeping young master in place. Spoiled, he is, but good heart he has. Young master infatuated with yous appearance. He soon finds out, more to yous. Tilly looking forward to it.”

 

“What's the real Ivy like,” Hermione asked, very curious.

 

“She fine lady,” Tilly hurriedly replied. “Worthy mate for the young master. The Peverell blood in hers be strong, but shes no use it yet. Shes not weak, but fears hers powers. Needs discipline and training.”

 

Hermione thought about this for a moment. Clearly Ivy was a young woman groomed in Pure-blood etiquette, with the focus being on making a good match, settling down and providing all the Potter heirs she was able to with nary a moment spent on educating her in the ways of defensive magic even though by Tilly's account, she was rife with magical potential.

 

“Where I come from,” Hermione began slowly, “there is a Dark creature bent on taking over and ruling the Wizarding world. He's evil and has a special hatred for all things Muggle, not caring that there are Muggle-borns much more adept at magic than some Pure-bloods. He's targeted my best friend and I've been helping him in his efforts to prevent this Dark wizard from rising to his full strength. It's almost impossible because his faithful followers are everywhere. I _must_ return to my own world.”

 

Nodding her head, Tilly said solemnly, “Tilly understands. Darkness rising here as well.” Hermione should have expected that there would be similar circumstances, but she hadn't, not really. “There is one whose name is feared. Most doesn't believes. Only stories told, but Tilly remembers the Dark days wells enough.”

Great. Just great. She leaves one world on the cusp of a war only to be thrust head-long into another. Why was she here? How did she get here? How was she going to get back?  What was she supposed to do while she was here? Who could she trust? All of these questions and more rolled around her head although the last was uppermost in her mind.

 

She desperately needed someone she could trust. Tilly, though so far not having shared the truth of the situation with the Potters, could not be fully trusted. She was the Potters house-elf which made her ties to _them_ paramount. She owed Hermione no such allegiance, so she found it curious as to why Tilly hadn't already outed her.

 

“Tilly, why haven't told Lady Potter the truth about me? As their elf, aren't you bound to protect them from, well… anything remotely suspicious or possibly harmful to the family?”

 

“Yous no harm Tilly's family. Yous Tilly's family too,” she explained, making Hermione feel like a complete idiot for even asking the obvious.

 

Ignoring the reference that she was Tilly's family also, Hermione said with a scrunched brow, “You're right, when you say that I mean the Potters no harm. However, your true bond is with them, and I'm essentially a stranger who has happened to appear unexpectedly and without precedence into someone else' body; taking over their identity! So, it would stand to reason since you have the Potters best interest at heart, that you would be suspicious of my motives and inform them of all that you know about me.”

 

Through squinted, large eyes, Tilly went on, “Yous be correct. Potters is Tilly's family to protect. Tilly's elf-family serve House of Potter for generations. Wes also serve House of Peverell for _centuries_.”

 

Hermione was surprised and it showed. “Are you saying that serving the Peverells takes precedence over serving the Potters?” Tilly nodded. “I don't understand, I mean… aren't the Potters descendants of the Peverells?” Again, Tilly nodded. “So… “

 

“Yous is confused,” Tilly pointed out unnecessarily. “Mistress and Master not direct descendants. Young mistress, Ivy _is_ a Peverell.  Peverell bond stronger, but Tilly loves all Tilly's family.”

 

Holy Merlin! She was in the body of a _direct_ descendent of the Peverells! In her world, there were families associated by blood but not closely; several generations removed since no actual Peverells remained. This was unbelievable! But, there was no earthly reason for Tilly to serve _her_. Great Godric's ghost, her life in this world was really just one great big mass of unexpected weirdness. The sooner she was out of here the better!

 

“Yous must bath and dress, young mistress. Guests be arriving soon. Mistress is one to makes sure to be on times for such things.”

 

Hermione didn't dare refuse Tilly's 'suggestion' considering the severe look in her eyes. Hermione meekly followed the house-elf into the large en-suite bathroom. Large was an understatement! It was enormous! The bath alone rivaled the small pool in the Prefects bathroom at Hogwarts while the shower stall was pure marble with triple shower heads and could probably house the entire Weasley clan. The double vanity was lined with the best bath and hair products known to wizarding kind. There were plenty of plush bath towels with perpetual heating charms, making sure that no one suffered a chill while exiting the bath tub or shower area.

 

Hermione was reluctant to disrobe in front of Tilly being of a modest nature, but Tilly made it non-verbally clear that she had no other choice. After unbuttoning her nightgown. Hermione let it slip off into Tilly's waiting hands. Hermione was startled when you caught her reflection in one of the mirrors. She studied herself carefully.

 

Ivy was a beautiful young woman in the way that Hermione Granger could never hope to be. Her hair was black as night, so black there were purple highlights to its curly length. The lovely ringlets reaching to her waist were tousled and it irked Hermione that even her bedhead was attractive.

 

Large, sapphire blue eyes stared back at her from a triangular-shaped face sporting high cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, with an elegant, straight nose. The only flaw Hermione could detect was that her mouth was a tad too wide with a too thin upper lip, although the full lower lip sort of compensated for that. Even without smiling, there was an enchanting dimple at the corner of her mouth, which was _really_ annoying.

 

Her breasts weren’t large but they were well-formed, there was a narrow waist leading to slightly flared hips while her skin was as white as ivory and entirely unblemished except for a strange splotch above her left hip that could have been mistaken for a birth mark. It was the exact spot where Lucius Malfoys’ curse had struck her. Initially, it had been quite painful but as she ran her fingers lightly over it, there was nothing but a slight tingling.

 

“Tilly has drawn bath for young mistress,” the house-elf said, leading Hermione to the immense tub, clicking her fingers making Hermione’s long hair pull up into an intricate up-do. “Tries not to get hair wet, young mistress.”

 

Fragrant swirls of mist rose from the water and Hermine recognized the scent as jasmine and honeysuckle. Although she herself, never used scented water, Hermione found it very pleasant. Lowering herself onto the built-in bench, she groaned at how wonderful the warm water felt. Leaning back, she let all of her muscles be soothed and relaxed by the jets which pushed the water against her body. There was something to be said for being in such luxurious surroundings.

 

Tilly allowed her to simply soak for about ten minutes before insisting that she bath herself so as not to be late for lunch. Hermione did just that, taking only minutes to clean her body and after she was finished, Tilly was right there with a heated towel. Hermione dried herself and shouldered into a lovely silk kimono, following the house-elf back to the bedroom.

 

Already spread out over the made up bed, were robes of such beauty, Hermione gasped. She fingered the soft, expensive fabric reverently. Hermione had never been a slave to fashion like Lavender Brown or the other girls in her dorm. But this beautiful garment was something she was eager to put on. It was a gorgeous shade of plum with subtle but intricate, silver embroidered vines and leaves around the collar, sleeves and the hemline.

 

It fit her perfectly, highlighting her figure without being vulgar and was feather-light as it fell to her feet in soft folds, brushing the tips of her opal-painted toes. Hermione hadn’t ever looked nor felt so girly in her entire life. Tilly guided her over to a vanity and chair where she began to brush out Hermione’s dark hair until it glimmered. Using diamond encrusted combs, Tilly pulled her curls back on either side of her face, securing the thick tresses allowing the rest to flow freely down her back.

 

“Young mistress is lookings very pretty,” the house-elf said with a proud smile. “Yous need no cosmetics. Fine just as yous are.”

 

Tilly was right, of course. Her pale skin had an under flush of color across her cheekbones and her sapphire eyes needed no embellishment, they sparkled brightly. “Thank you, Tilly,” Hermione breathed, still stunned at her appearance.

 

“Yous go now, young mistress. Guests arriving now,” Tilly motioned to the bedroom door with a shooing motion of her hands.

 

“I don’t know _where_ to go, Tilly,” Hermione exclaimed, terrified of leaving the sanctuary of her bedroom. “This is going to be disastrous!”

 

“Finding way is easy. Yous follow Tilly and pays close attention so yous know how to get theres on yous own.”

 

Inhaling deeply, girding herself for what was to come, Hermione kept up the mantra of: You are a Gryffindor. Brave and courageous. Tilly guided her down the long hallway. Portraits hung on either side, glancing at her curiously, whispering amongst themselves. You are a Gryffindor. Brave and courageous. As if sensing her distress, Tilly reached out and took her clammy hand in her own. That tiny act of kindness made Hermione feel tons better. More stoutly, she proclaimed to herself: You are a Gryffindor! Brave and courageous!

 

_You can do this, Hermione_. Fabulous. The mysterious voice was back _. I will help you_ _in any way I can_. _Ivy needs your experience, knowledge and eagerness to learn and excel_. Is that why I’m here, Hermione demanded. _Partially, but you are not ready to know the full truth as of yet_. How did I get here, can you answer me that? _Soon_. Hermione rolled her eyes. Fat lot of help you are! Her only answer was a beleaguered sounding sigh. I’m just saying that a bit more information would be immensely helpful. _Stubborn child_. Damn straight! No retort came and Hermione was certain that the voice was done for the moment.

 

Hermione felt like Scarlet O’Hara as she descended the wide, curved staircase with their gleaming banisters and almost blinding bright steps. In a way, it was sort of like the Yule Ball, but instead of Viktor waiting for her at the bottom, James stood gawking up at her. He looked remarkably handsome in his forest green dress robes. A very fit figure indeed. The way he stared at her was slightly embarrassing; all-consuming and with hungry pride. Only Viktor had looked at her in a similar fashion and when he’d kissed her, she’d felt the same fluttering in her chest that she did now as James approached, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles lingeringly.

 

“You look glorious,” he said fervently, pressing her fingers. “Are you all right,” he asked, brow furrowed in concern. “Your hand is freezing.”

 

“Just nervous,” Hermione answered, licking her lips, coloring rising up her neck when James eyes followed her action avidly.

 

Guiding her hand through the crook of his arm, he began leading her toward the double-doors standing open, saying with a pat to her hand, “There’s no need to be nervous. It will just be Mum and Dad along with three of my closest mates. I’m eager for you to meet them and I hope you’ll all get along although Severus can be a dour git every now and then. He’s as brilliant as they come, and has a tendency to get lost in his studies.”

 

Hermione steps faltered at hearing the name of her Potions Professor falling from James’ lips with such fond amusement. She really _had_ stumbled into the Twilight Zone if Severus Snape was one of James’ best mates. Oh, glory. This, this was going to take every ounce of acting ability she possessed because that man was not someone she wanted to get to know at all, and certainly not to the extent that James expected.

 

They glided through the entry way, into a lovely dining room with a large rectangular table set with fine china, delicate glass goblets and cutlery fashioned from actual silver, gilded with gold around the handles. Although large, the room had an atmosphere of intimacy, helped along by the fireplace in the corner, casting off warmth within its blazing depths.

 

But, it was the people standing off to the side of the table who caught her attention. James’ parents were smiling at her in an encouraging fashion with obvious affection. The other three were each handsome young men, which surprised Hermione considering the Severus Snape in her world would not have been considered handsome at all. Probably more due to his abhorrent personality rather than his actual looks. He still looked intense, but there was no contempt in his gaze when his eyes met hers. They weren’t exactly warm either, more curious than anything else.

 

The other two were polar opposites in their looks. One was tall with fair hair and light blue eyes. The cut of his robes were less extravagant, but they suited his slim figure nicely. His face was pleasant, and he was good-looking in a less flashy fashion than James or the other boy who stood next to him. This young mans’ features were finely cut and absolutely stunning.  Here was an aristocrat through and through, even Hermione could tell that. He was so incredibly good-looking, Hermione found it difficult to drag her eyes away.  Grinning widely when he noticed her appreciative stare, he gave her an audacious wink which brought renewed color to Hermione’s face.

 

“All right, Regulus, stop flirting with my girl,” James admonished his friend. Addressing all of his best mates, James announced, “I’d like to introduce you to Ivy Rose Hermione Peverell.”

 

Hermione’s head began to swim alarmingly. What the hell?! Crazy enough to discover she was in the body of an actual Peverell but one of her names was _Hermione_! James didn’t notice that her face lost all color, eyes wide with shock, but the sandy-haired boy took a step forward, worry for her well-being stamped on his face.

 

“Are you unwell, Miss Peverell,” he asked.

 

Instantly, James turned his head, “What is it, Ivy? You’re trembling.”

 

“I think I need to sit down,” Hermione replied in a voice that shook.

 

Instantly, several people converged on her at once. James, his parents, the fair-haired boy and Regulus. Severus stood back, watching as everything transpired, intrigued in spite of himself.

 

“Stand aside, James,” Charlus ordered taking hold of Hermione by the waist, helping her to sit in one of chairs. “Perhaps it was too soon to have her meet other people outside of the family.”

 

“Who would have thought that a Peverell would be such a delicate flower,” drawled Severus and although in other circumstances it would have been considered a compliment, clearly it was not.

 

Hermione’s head shot up and fixing him with a fierce glare, snarled, “I am _not_ a delicate anything, you unmitigated arse!”

 

James snickered. Regulus’ grin grew to huge proportions. The blonde boy looked amused. James parents looked alternately shocked and indulgent. Severus Snape’s reaction was the one that puzzled Hermione most. His back eyes flashed with approval, bordering on admiration, a slight smirk twisting his thin lips.

 

“My apologies, Miss Peverell.” Severus slid in smoothly. “I meant no disrespect to your good name.”

 

“Of course you didn’t,” Hermione threw back at him sarcastically, eyes flashing dangerously. “Perhaps you’d like to take this outside, if you desire proof of my abilities.”

 

A glint of true interest ghosted over Severus’ face as his gaze raked over her slim and deceivingly delicate looking physique to come to rest once more on her flushed, angrily determined features.

 

“I think I would enjoy that immensely,” he responded much to the shock of everyone else in the room other than Hermione.

 

“Right,” Hermione barked briskly, while pushing herself up from the table. “Let’s do this.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” James stepped in, pointing out to Severus. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea. I mean Ivy’s been recuperating and it’s been slow going. I don’t think she’s up to a duel, for Merlin’s sake.”

 

Placing her hands on her hips, Hermione turned on him and said sharply, “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you to think for me, James Potter!” Hermione called out,” Tilly.” Immediately, the house-elf was at her side.

 

“Young mistress calls. Hows can Tilly serves yous?”

 

Moderating her tone, Hermione said, “I’d like for you to take us some place on the grounds where it will be safe for this gentleman and I to duel.”

 

Without even looking to James, Dorea or Charlus for permission, Tilly snapped her fingers and all were transported a safe distance from the manor.

 

“Does this please the young mistress,” Tilly asked

 

Surveying her surroundings thoughtfully, taking in the vast area of level ground, the sporadic tree and bush, and well away from buildings or inhabited areas.

 

“This will do quite nicely, Tilly,” Hermione agreed much to the house-elfs' delight. “Thank you.”

 

Bowing slightly, Tilly replied solemnly, “It is Tilly's great pleasure to serve the House of Peverell.”

 

“Uh, Mum… Dad,” James looked to his parents, silently beseeching them to step in and stop this madness.

 

“Don't even think about it, Charlus,” Dorea ordered, as her husband took one tentative step forward. “James may want this to be over but I know very well that you and I are eager to see what Ivy is made of.”

 

“Too true, my darling,” Charlus admitted, ignoring his son's crestfallen expression.

 

Tilly had taken the Potter family a short distance away, making it possible for them to converse and not be in any danger of being affected by the melee about to take place.

 

“I believe taking a second is the usual practice,” Regulus reminded the dualist. “I should be honored to act in that capacity on Miss Peverell's behalf, if she is willing.”

 

“I accept your offer, Mister Black,” Hermione granted, eyes now firmly set on her opponent.

 

“Very well,” Severus agreed amiably. “Remus,” he said, causing Hermione to start in surprise, gaze swinging immediately to the other man. “Is it acceptable that I ask for you to act as my second?”

 

How could she not have seen that this smiling, light-haired young man had been none other than her former DADA professor? She could be forgiven she supposed since he resembled nothing of the man she knew in her world. This man's face was unscathed by werewolf transformation. Healthy in body and apparently worthy enough to be Severus Snapes' friend! The surprises just kept on rolling.

 

“I accept,” Remus said with a wry twist to his lips before adding, “Although I expect you would rather call on James for this honor seeing as how he is your best mate and brother in all things other than blood.”

 

If Hermione hadn't been so worked up over Snapes' insults, she would have needed a smelling salts, because this was just all too surreal, and passing out seemed like the perfect solution in escaping this present madness where Snape and Harry's father were bosom pals, Remus was hale and whole and where Regulus Black was a part of James' inner circle which begged the question: Where and what was Sirius Black's part in all of this?

 

“They will need a moderator, dear,” Dorea pointed out, secretly thrilled at this unusual turn of event.

 

Needing no further prompting, Charlus made his way over to the small group. Clearing his throat, he said, “I shall act as moderator.”

 

“Agreed,” Hermione and Severus said simultaneously.

 

“It goes without question that there be no, and I mean _no_ , usage of Unforgiveables.” Both duelers nodded in agreement. “The first to draw blood or disarm, will be proclaimed the winner. Understood?” Both nodded again. “Very well, please present your wands for inspection.”

 

Good gracious! Hermione had totally forgotten that her wand was no longer in her possession. How was she supposed to duel this smirking bastard without one?

 

Reluctantly, Hermione admitted, “I regret to inform you all, that I am presently without a wand.”

 

Silence greeted her announcement followed by, “Do you forfeit by default?”

 

Hermione's fists clenched at her sides. Clearly, Snape thought it a ruse to get out of the duel that _she_ instigated if his bored, self-satisfied expression was anything to go by.

 

“I most certainly do not,” was Hermione's swift tartly spoken rejoinder. “It will merely be a postponement until I am issued a new wand.”

 

“Of course,” Severus drawled in that infuriating manner of his. Smug bastard.

 

“If _I_ may render my services to the lady,” a smooth, cultured voice suggested.

 

It took only one glance at the tall, outstandingly good-looking man off to James' side for Hermione to recognize him as Lucius Malfoy. He was watching the proceedings with cool amusement lurking in those smoky grey eyes of his. Resplendent in emerald green robes, long white-blonde hair bound at the nape of his neck, sporting the exact same snake-head cane as he did in her world.

 

Hermione's palm itched, hand twitching wildly and if she'd had a wand, she would have no doubt used it on him from reflex alone. Snape had been a damned nuisance, unfair to her in every word and deed and hateful to the extreme. But this man… this man had spawned a horrid menace who dogged her every footstep while shouting the worst Wizarding obscenities known while doing his damnedest to make Harry's life miserable in every way imaginable. Hogwarts was Harry's haven and where Hermione had finally found acceptance, so for that little weasel to be the viper in their own sort of Eden, was reprehensible.

 

While the Mini-Malfoy made life miserable inside of Hogwarts, the man himself, made lives miserable outside of that revered institution. Hermione had no idea how many Ministry officials he had in his deep, deep pockets, but the Minister was one of them for sure.  It went without saying, that the lunatic Death-eater had earned Hermione's eternal enmity when he'd slipped that damned diary into Ginny's cauldron. Hermione was not ever going to forget how Ginny's life had been endangered and Harry nearly killed by Tom Riddle and his basilisk.

 

Rolling his dark eyes, Severus said, sounding bored, “But of course _you_ would swoop in at the last moment in an attempt to rescue the fair maiden. Are you not weary of this routine, Lucius?”

 

“I do _not_ need rescuing, you damned cretin,” Hermione exclaimed, looking fit to be tied.

 

The other boys snickered. Lucius looked impressed and Severus smirk grew to really, _really_ annoying proportions.

 

“Are you offering me the usage of your wand,” Hermione questioned, completely unaware of the beauty she radiated in her wrath.

 

“Why of course...”

 

Before he could even finish his offer, Hermione reached across him, grabbed the snake handle and ripped Lucius' wand out of its hidden space, brandishing the wood with an elegant flourish.

 

Eyes wide, Lucius sputtered, “How did you...”

 

With a harrumph, Hermione turned her back to him, stalking with sheer purpose to where Mister Potter stood, handing the wand over with a toothy, triumphant grin at Severus. Charlus examined both wands carefully before handing them back with an approving nod.

 

Hermione pulled off the snake head and nonchalantly threw it over her shoulder, much to the annoyance of Malfoy who’d paid handsomely to have the cane hand-made to his specifications.

 

Catching his annoyed glare, Hermione stated with no remorse for her actions, “It will only hinder me. It’s utterly useless with that hood ornament on top of it.”

 

Hermione didn’t even stop to contemplate that none of those present would have any clue as to what a hood ornament was. She tested the weight of the wand in her hand. It was heavier than her own. She gripped it tight and found that it took much more pressure on her part for it to flex even a bit. Hers had given when just the right amount of force was exerted. She whipped it to and fro, trying to get a good feel for it, but it felt wrong in her grasp although no one was blasted with uncontrollable sparks or emissions. Perhaps it was because it was Lucius Malfoys wand that it felt so alien.

 

She doubted very much it would do her bidding in the way that she needed it to. Snape must have thought so as well since there was a look of gleeful spite in those deep, dark depths. It would be an unequal match. They both knew it. Without a proper wand, Hermione was left at a hopeless disadvantage, but she would not back down. That was unthinkable! She’d rather bleed out on the ground than give this slimy git the satisfaction of giving up or giving in.

 

“Salute your opponent,” Charlus intoned with authority. After they had done so, he continued, “Take your stance.”

 

Hermione fell immediately into her fighting stance, as did Snape and she took a moment to admire his figure. He held his wand with confidence, determination written all over his face; he stood as battle-ready as she, and she couldn’t help but wonder where he had learned such fine technique. She waited for the tingle of magic to flow through her fingertips, but it never came. The wand remained silent, refusing her admittance to its magic. Hermione was doomed.

 

“ _Open yourself up to the wand. It is as sentient as you are_ ,” a now familiar voice whispered in her head. “ _There is no need to attempt to bend it to your will. That will gain you nothing_.”

 

“Are you saying that I should ask the wand to assist me?” This greatly confused Hermione.

 

“ _I am saying, that if you invite the magic inside to mingle with your own without force, it will do so_. _The magic around your body is a closed circuit as is the magic in your body. They are two separate entities as is the magic in the wand_. _They must all work in tandem_.”

 

“How am I to do that,” Hermione asked, perplexed.

 

“ _Relax your core_.” Hermione frowned. “ _Your **magical** core_,” the voice emphasized. “ _Focus your thoughts on the area above your navel and below the middle of your chest_.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Hermione huffed in frustration.

 

“ _Willful child_!” The voice rebuked her. “ _Magic is not based on logic. It is a natural extension of who you are. Like breathing. There is no real thought behind the action of inhaling and exhaling, it is merely an automatic part of you and your body. Such is the case with magic_.”

 

“Interesting,” Hermione mused. “I’ve never been taught such a thing. But, is not focusing the act of thinking through magic?”

 

“ _The focus comes first. Because you are not accustomed to accessing your magical core in this fashion, you must open your core and then the rest will follow. The use of a wand channels the natural magic surrounding you through its own core of magic. Hence the magic is released through the wand. When you open yourself up completely, you are embracing the magic and channeling it through yourself. You are one. Do you understand_?”

 

“I would rather we had done this _before_ I was facing Snape in a duel,” Hermione said ruefully. “He’s being unusually patient as we converse.”

 

“ _In his mind and the mind of the others, not a second has passed. I have paused time for this discussion_.”

 

For a moment, Hermione was struck speechless, then she said haltingly, “Um, that’s impressive.” A million thoughts were running rampant in her head.

 

“ _There is no time to answer your questions. You must focus on your magical core and open yourself up to the magic_.”

 

Hermione closed her eyes and did as the voice requested. At first, she felt nothing, but then she felt a warmth growing in the area where she was concentrating, then a steady throbbing that was almost painful; her whole body began to vibrate and it was a very unusual feeling and if she were being honest, frightening as well.

 

“ _Do not fear! Pull the magic up through the soles of your feet, in through your fingertips and down through the crown of your head_.”

 

The pulsating in her limbs intensified. Even her hair felt as if it were throbbing. In her minds’ eye, Hermione could actually _see_ the magic being sucked into her body, pushing it until it looked like a mini-tornado just under her ribcage. The power rushing through her was exhilarating! Electricity crackled all around as the storm of magic grew and grew.

 

“I don’t think I can handle this,” she screamed above the roaring in her ears.

 

“ _You can_ ,” the voice insisted, and Hermione felt the great urgency, not simply heard it. “ _You_ **_must_**! _Pull the magic inside you! Let it mingle with your magical core_!”

 

Hermione hesitated, this all felt unnatural, and belatedly she realized she should have thought twice before trusting this cryptic voice in her head. Would she never learn?

 

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” Hermione wailed even as she felt her magic crash against the foreign magic. Hermione doubled over, excruciating pain spreading out from her middle, where everything thrashed violently. She was spinning, dark hair flying straight up under the fury of the magical storm. “No, no, no… stop,” she screamed.

 

“ _Do not falter_ ,” the voice commanded. “ _It is too late to turn back, you will be destroyed if you attempt to stop what is happening here! Embrace your destiny, daughter of Peverell_!”

 

“I’m not her!” Hermione screeched, real fear clawing at her when she realized she was being lifted up off the ground from the sheer magnitude of power embracing her. It was suffocating! Squeezing the very air from her lungs! She was going to die here! Tears streamed down her face at the thought of never seeing Harry again. Never seeing all those she loved.

 

“I’m _not_ her,” she yelled again, voice hoarse from the shrieking she didn’t even realize she was doing.

 

“ _You will be one! It must be so_!”

 

Hermione felt as if every one of her limbs was being wrenched from her body, she was being torn this way and that, with no way to tell which end was up. “You’re killing me,” she whimpered, having no hope of being heard above this roaring madness.

 

“ _Embrace the power_!” The voice urged. “ _It is the only way! Take what was also meant to be yours_!”

 

Sobbing in earnest, Hermione gritted her teeth, inhaling the iridescent, swirling air from all around, pulling it in until she felt as if she could hold no more dreading that her lungs would burst if she tried. Through tear-riddled eyes, she realized that the congealed tempest was swelling with every breath that she took. Using her arms to shield her midriff, as if they could keep the riotous cyclone of magical intensity from escaping, Hermione yanked with all that she had and heard a victorious shout in her head.

 

“ _Well done_! _Now, release the power back from whence it came_!”

 

In one grand sweep of her arms, Hermione thrust the veil of storm clouds and flickering mist out from her very being, releasing all that she had been holding prisoner inside. She felt the gale-force of the magic rush back down her limbs and head, and with a wild swoosh and fearsome cry, Hermione was set free, crumpling to the ground beneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know your thoughts on this fic and the characters. I'm always up for CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms. Thanks for reading!


	4. Forgiveness and Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione briefly returns to her world to hold a conversation with Severus Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI: I started more chapters to several of my stories and then was diagnosed with diabetes several weeks back which is affecting my eyesight. I was able to finish this chapter with reading glasses over top of my own prescription glasses. If there are any mistakes, please forgive them. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

Chapter 4

 

In a split second, Hermione's whole world righted itself. She found herself, once again standing opposite Severus Snape. A very eager looking Severus Snape. Only, it wasn't a young Severus Snape. It was the Snape of her world, At least, she hoped to hell it was!

 

“Domina,” he exclaimed, rapidly approaching her. “Finally. What news of the Granger girl? I thought perhaps you were angry with me and so refused my request to be heard.”

 

This, this was continued craziness! His tone was pleasant, almost reverent. With her… Hermione Granger! He hated Hermione Granger with a passion usually reserved for Harry! It was obvious that she was still in Ivy Peverell's form, so could she really fault him on making a mistake? Still, the way he gazed at her. It was full of longing and hope and it was an expression she didn't ever expect to see on the man, making it doubly weird and uncomfortable.

 

“Professor,” she greeted him tentatively.

 

He stopped. Understanding and disappointment warring in those black eyes of his. “Miss Granger,” he replied briskly. “Are you well?”

 

Looking around, Hermione surmised that she must be in Snape's personal rooms at Hogwarts. It wasn't a large room, but the addition of a sizable mirror hanging across from her reflected back, making the dimensions of the room seem more so. Books were stacked on tables and haphazardly on the floor. Several were opened and clearly she'd interrupted whatever research he had been engaged in.

 

Lips trembling, Hermione answered, “I'm not sure. I was about to duel...”

 

Uh, this was awkward. She doubted very much she should tell him that she'd been about to kick the arse of a younger Snape from another dimension. That would be far too odd and he probably wouldn't believe her anyway.

 

“Were you injured in any way,” he demanded, a question which took her off guard. I mean really, Snape asking after her well-being? Had she exited one Twilight Zone only to have entered another? “Quickly, Miss Granger as I have no idea how long you will remain here.”

 

Nodding she said, “I'm okay, but strange things have been happening. Have you managed to bring me home?” Merlin, if he had, no matter what Harry or Ron thought, this wizard would have her undying devotion for the rest of her years.

 

Shaking his dark head, he disappointed her by saying, “I'm afraid not. You are but an apparition in this world. We must take this time to discuss what is happening in the universe you presently reside.”

 

Dark blue eyes widened and Severus felt a pang of longing, she was as beautiful as his long-held memories recalled. She walked his dreams regularly, but this was the first time he had seen her so corporeal, so real. No matter his feelings, this was not his Domina; not yet. Hermione Granger was trapped in a world not her own, and he must assist her to the best of his abilities while still holding true to his task. Both worlds depended on it.

 

“You know?” She asked, eyes narrowing dangerously. “How the hell did I get here? How do I get back?”

 

“It was necessary, Miss Granger. As you have already surmised, you are in a totally different dimension where certain things may appear unusual to you.” She snorted. Ignoring it, he continued. “How long have you been there?”

 

Brow furrowed, Hermione said, “Ivy Peverell has been with the Potters for over a week, but _I've_ been this Ivy person for almost two days.”

 

On eyebrow shot up. “Interesting,” he intoned quietly. “You have been gone only hours here. It is as I suspected, time is moving differently between our worlds.”

 

“Professor,” she snapped angrily. “Why is this happening? Did you do this?”

 

The man hated her, sure but to intentionally send her to an unknown world as revenge? Not even he would be so vindictive.

 

He surprised her by saying, “You hold Lucius Malfoy's wand.” Good. Things were happening just as was foretold, although the part where she would appear to him with this knowledge had not been known to him.

 

“Yeah, what of it,” she demanded, eyes flaring with impatience. “This Lucius Malfoy is just as much as a pompous idiot as ours. Even had the same snake-head handle, talk about lack of imagination.”

 

“Focus, Miss Granger! The top of his walking stick holds his wand. It is silver, crafted by Goblins and infused with great power. You must make sure of its keep it safety until the appointed time.”

 

“Appointed time,” she echoed nervously. “I need information, Professor and believe me, it is in short supply here except for that damned cryptic voice in my head. After what she just did, I don't trust her a whit!”

 

“She,” he inquired. “Tell me of this voice.”

 

Throwing her hands up in exasperation, Hermione said, “She talks to me in my head and her advice? Not so good. Then, there's Tilly who _does_ know that I am not this Ivy Peverell, but is keeping it to herself. I mean, come on! I'm as far from a Pure-blood as they come and definitely not associated with the House of Peverell, yet Tilly keeps telling me that I'm marked by one of the Founding Houses!”

 

His gaze zeroed in on her hip, which shook Hermione to the core. He knew! Knew about her scar, or mark or whatever the hell it really was. What else did he know? The man seemed unsurprised by the turn of events that had led her to another world.

 

Pointing a finger at him, she accused bitterly, “It was _you_! You sent me here! Why? To get me out of the way? I thought you were on our side! Do you want Voldemort to take over the Wizarding World? Have you duped us all?!”

 

“ _Stop, child._ ”

 

Hermione groaned. Not this again! Snape completely floored her when he dropped to his knees, whispering in reverent tones, “Domina.”

 

“ _Rise, Severus. There is no need to subjugate yourself before me. We are friends of old_.”

 

“What the bleeding hell is going on?” Hermione demanded even as she felt the rush of disapproval at her language.

 

Ignoring her question, Snape rose to his feet, his expression one of immense love, his normally pasty face illuminated to the point of beauty. “I can see you,” he breathed. “All of you.”

 

“ _You are the first, Severus. The very first to witness this monumental step toward reunion. This child has opened herself to the magic in all, thus enabling us to converse more freely. She will need educated by each and every one of you, just as the sleeping heiress will need education by Hermione. Do you understand, my acolyte_?”

 

“Yes,” Severus said with great reluctance.

 

“ _There was a time, my acolyte where your love and devotion toward my James was boundless. Can you not transfer those feeling to his heir, not for my sake but for your own_?”

 

Severus grunted, before saying bitterly, “He taunted my youth. Made my life miserable in countless ways. He and that irritating mongrel, of his. In this time and place, he has been my enemy. All of them have and you ask me to forget all of that?” Inhaling deeply to settle his emotions, he continued, “Still, if it is your wish that I do so, then I will try. I obey all of your orders, Domina.”

 

Wow, Hermione thought. Who was this woman who held the fate of so many and was able to convince Snape to at least attempt to befriend the Marauders and Harry. Extraordinary sadness engulfed Hermione, she almost buckled under the force of it, and she could tell that Snape felt it too as his face twisted into an expression of pure agony.

 

“ _I have no wish to force your hand. It grieves me most desperately for you to think otherwise. I would release you of this bond which you find so burdensome if it were in my power to do so_.”

 

“I meant no disrespect to you or the bond,” Snape hastily assured her. “I am merely pointing out, that they make it difficult to co-exist in harmony.”

 

“ _Do you not also make it difficult? I see your heart, my acolyte. I know your pain, the loss you have suffered_.” Snape stiffened and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she meant Lily Evans.

 

“ _All have suffered in this world, you know this. My bright Star has lost family and friends… years of his life, tortured and broken in body and spirit. My Knowledgeable One, scarred and forever poisoned by that monster’s venom; doubting himself when he should not. James’ heir, treated poorly by those who should have loved him. Made to reside with child abusers at the whim of a doddering old fool! Lucius, forced into an erroneous belief that others are lowly and tainted in blood, beaten for speaking his own thoughts, rebuked and reviled as a child until conforming was his only salvation. Now tell me truly, my whatever, have you not all suffered in various ways_?”

 

“You shame me,” he muttered sadly.

 

“ _Such is not my intent,”_ she assured him _. “I will not hold you to the bond although we both know that to refuse its call is perilous. I would not have you be an unwilling slave as you have been to Dumbledore. All of mine have been enslaved by that horrid man in one way or another.”_

 

Hermione started. What? Enslaved??

 

“ _Yes, child. You heard me correctly. Dumbledore has his own agenda and none of it bodes well for yours nor mine_.”

 

“Harry thinks he’s a great man,” Hermione exclaimed out loud, angry. “He’s done so much for him, for us.”

 

Snape’s laugh was hollow. “Miss Granger, you would do well to not believe everything that wizard has to say. Despite what Mister Potter thinks, Dumbledore is not infallible. In fact, he is wily and manipulative in ways you have no concept of and if you do manage to contact him from where you are, it would be best that you not inform him of all that is transpiring between the chosen ones in both dimensions.”

 

“Why should I believe you,” Hermione bit out waspishly.“You've been nothing but a massive thorn in Harry's side, and mine, since First year, and now you expect me to believe that you have our best interest at heart?”

 

Severus controlled the urge to roll his eyes and it was a hard won victory. “Use that brain of yours, Miss Granger. Think of all that has, up to this point, transpired. Do you honestly think that the supposed most powerful wizard in our world couldn't have found a way to keep Potter safe without leaving them with his abominable relations? Start there, girl then work your way through your Hogwarts years and then tell me that man has Potter's or your best interest at heart.”

 

For a moment, Hermione was struck dumb. It went against everything she believed in to now put her faith in Professor Snape, of all people. Yet, there was no denying his argument held merit. She hadn't thought too hard on it before, and maybe she hadn't was because she was afraid of what the outcome would have been.

 

Couldn't Harry had been kept safe at Hogwarts? It was supposed to be impenetrable, after all. He could have been taken out of the country to an unplottable location and placed with a magical family of little renown, and therefore out of Voldemort's reach? The Order could have ignored Dumbledore, whose opinion carried far too much weight now that she was thinking about it. There could have been many options open to Harry and his well-being, yet he'd been made to stay with the Dursleys. The _Dursleys_!

 

People who hated anything remotely magical. People who starved him. People who used him for slave labor. People who kept him under the stairs in a closet even though they had a spare room. People who didn't know squat about magic leaving Harry in ignorance. People who punished Harry when accidental magic presented itself, and poor Harry had no idea what was happening or why!

 

Had they all been utterly blind from way back to when the first Order had been created? Sirius in Azkaban without a trial when surely Dumbledore could have made sure he would have been treated fairly. Death-eaters had been given more consideration than Sirius! Remus who was encouraged (forced) into joining wolf packs to gather information, losing trust in Sirius and, vice-versus, in the process; the closest of friends torn asunder!

 

Holy Hell! Professor Snape was right! There _had_ been various other methods that could have been employed on Harry's behalf when he was a baby. Thinking on events at Hogwarts up until now, would have to wait because she was already furious enough with Dumbledore. Furious, and sad. The trust they held in the man had been a lie. How was she going to convince Harry of that fact when she returned. _If_ she returned.

 

 

“ _You are beginning to see the truth of the matter, child. I wish your trust had been placed in more worthy hands_.”

 

Even though this voice, this woman had her own agenda, Hermione believed her on this point unequivocally. “What should I do? Harry needs to be told.”

 

“ _Have no fear. The time of James' heir to know all is approaching. He will need to put his faith in others such as Severus, if he so chooses to remain with me and the other Bonded Ones_.”

 

“No offense,” Hermione replied honestly, “but there is no way Harry is going to believe a word that comes out of Professor Snape's mouth.”

 

“ _Understandable_ ,” the voice agreed. “ _He does, however, hold you and your opinion in high regard. It will be your task to show him the way_.”

 

Hermione snorted, “Are you kidding me? I couldn't get him to calm down long enough to think through rushing to the Ministry to 'save Sirius' and I'm sure you know how well that went down. It was a trap.”

 

“ _I am aware. Still, you are now open to the magic that imbues all that lives. This will assist you in convincing the boy. The Bonded ones will support you as well as the Peverell heir_.”

 

Hermione grabbed onto the one thing that was said that held the greatest meaning to her. “You're saying I will return to my own world?”

 

“ _When the time is right,_ ” she said in her usual cryptic fashion which really pissed off Hermione.

 

“ _Child, you have in your possession_ _of a silver dagger and_ _the wand of one of my own._ ”

 

Confused Hermione said, “Sirius gave me a silver dagger for my birthday, is that the one you mean?”

 

“ _Just so_.”

 

Hermione could feel her satisfaction. “Yes, but I realized that the dagger seems to have disappeared along with my clothes when I came though the mirror. As for this wand, Malfoy offered it to me to use in my duel against….” She broke off, gaze flickering briefly to Snape. “Yes, I have Malfoy's wand.”

 

“ _It is possible the blade reverted to its original owner when you traversed worlds. No matter, you shall eventually be able to retrieve it._ _Keep the blade safe. No one else must learn of its existence. You will need it in the upcoming days_. _It is integral to your way home as well as other events of great importance_.”

 

“Why can't you just tell me what I need to know,” Hermione demanded, angry and frustrated. “I want to go back to my world and clearly you know how, so why can't you just tell me?”

 

“ _There are components needed for a specific spell that are not in your possession as of yet. Certain outcomes must be assured before you travel back to your world. Several of these components will come to you readily, while others will take time and cunning for their way is perilous_.”

 

Hermione's shoulders fell into a defeated slump. The voice could not send her home. She was powerful, Hermione could feel it radiating all around her, but not powerful enough. It required a spell, and Hermione was going to have to work for it. What else was new?

 

“What do I need,” Hermione finally asked, determination written on her features.

 

“T _he dagger_ _must be retrieved from its current owner._ _The cloak is in James' possession. A relic passed down from the Peverell legacy. He will need no convincing to release it unto your care_.”

 

“You must inform her of the dangers, my Domina,” Snape added on, looking serious.

 

Oh, boy. Hermione thought. Of course there was danger involved. Wasn’t there always? Tilly did mention the Dark Days and that it was happening all over again. The thought made Hermione feel even more exhausted than she already did.

 

“ _Child, in addition to the dagger, the cloak and the wand you now possess, you will need the Cup of Deliverance and the final creation of the Peverell's: the Elder wand. All of the Hallows must be united in order for the spell you seek to return you to your own line of existence_.”

 

Hermione was stunned. “The Hallows? Like in the book The Tales of Beedle the Bard? Tha… that's ridiculous! It's nothing but a story, a fable for children. They're not actually real!” Hermione noted Professor Snape's calm expression. “You don't seem too surprised by all of this.”

 

“I'm not,” he bit out succinctly. “I have been aware quite some time of the Hallows existence. I have searched but have had no success in locating them.”

 

“There you go,” Hermione pointed out with a triumphant smile, “you can't find them because they aren't real.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Snape bit out in exasperation, “They are, Miss Granger. I've seen them in my dreams and visions. My Domina has been quite busy these last few years, but alas even with her guidance I have not been able to locate even one. I have failed her in this just as I have failed her in so many ways in this world.”

 

Hermione had the baffling urge to reach out to the Professor to offer comfort, which was really, _really_ weird. Still, his expression warranted comfort and compassion. He looked completely uncharacteristically distraught. It was so alien from the expression that she had been familiar with for years, that Hermione's heart was moved. Acting on instinct, she sent a small pulse of magical energy toward him.

 

The effect was immediate. He let out a long, pent up sigh of relief, the stiffness leaving his shoulders, and Hermione could sense the sudden peace pervading his entire being. The muscles in his face relaxed then transformed into a look of grateful bliss which shook Hermione to the deepest part of her being.

 

For the first time ever, she was seeing him not as a tormentor of innocent children, but as a mere wizard with weaknesses and strengths; a man with untold depths deserving of good things. Someone in need of compassion for all that he had lost and, to this day, continues to lose while fighting for 'the greater good'. Professor Snape was not evil. He was lost. He was misunderstood and he was being held captive by his guilt.

 

Hermione sent another, less tentative and warmer pulse of magic and watched as he slumped into it as if releasing all his cares into the hand of magic; _her_ magic. It was a humbling and exhilarating experience. Hermione felt the power begun to well up inside, her heart aching for his situation. Her entire body was tingling and throbbing with the force of her magic and emotions.

 

“I forgive you,” Hermione proclaimed, voice clear and ringing like a bell as a third pulse of magic shot from her, hitting him square in the chest.

 

Severus' eyes flew open as he staggered back, arms flung out wide under the force of her magic. It was almost as if as invisible arrow had struck him. Groaning he clutched at his chest, face twisted in a parody of anguished astonishment as Hermione witnessed with her own eyes as a pitch black, nebulous tendril began to protrude from the Professors' thorax. Hermione's brow furrowed as this tendril began to burrow back into Snape, and her first thought was an infuriated, No!

 

Raising her hand, palm facing forward, Hermione ordered, words echoing all around them, “The words have been said. The intent true. Release him!”

 

This time, with no hesitation. The darkness flew from the older man, leaving him gasping and shaking as he staggered backward, grappling to find purchase on a nearby bookcase to prevent falling into a heap on the floor.

 

The ribbon of black danced and whirled about in her palm. Focusing on the ribbon, she silently cast a spell and thick blue flames, not unlike the ones that had issued from the Goblet of Fire, enveloped the winding darkness. Hermione could feel the blackness momentarily fight against the will of those bright flames until finally, it succumbed to a power greater than its own.

 

“ _Well done, Daughter_!”

 

'Well done?' Hermione mused. _What_ had she done? Strangely, she didn't feel exhausted or even the least bit tired after such a strong display. She wasn't even taking into account that she'd done all that without the use of the wand she still held!

 

“ _You no longer need a tangible conduit to channel your magic_.”

 

“What has happened,” gasped Severus, attempting to gather his wits. “Domina, what did she do to me? I feel… I feel empty,” he cried fearfully. “Have I been cursed?”

 

“ _Quite the contrary, Severus. My daughter has given you a most wondrous gift. The void you are experiencing is due to her excising a small piece of the darkness your soul has been harboring due to years of torment inflicted upon this child. It has been your constant companion and therefore, you naturally attribute its departure as a loss. This false feeling will fade although you did fight_ _to maintain its sway over you_. _You are as stubborn here as in the other realm_.” There was no mistaking the amused affection, and it was touching in an odd sort of way.

 

“I felt it,” Hermione said quietly. “As I held it. The scorn. The anger. The pain. The hate that you were feeling toward me, but also the hate you felt toward yourself for those very same feelings. It was almost as if they forced on you, and not something you truly wanted to experience.” Shaking her head, she continued with a sigh, “I don't know. It was all so very strange.”

 

“ _My daughter, you have given your unreserved and heart-felt forgiveness to one of my own. You have unburdened his soul of a speck of darkness and I thank you for your generosity. He is special and worthy of your forgiveness_.”

 

“I am not,” Severus disagreed strongly. “Forgive me, Domina for my dissent of your words, but I cannot allow you to absolve me so completely.”

 

“ _It is not_ _ **my**_ _absolution which has freed you from a portion of your long-standing malcontent. It is my daughter who has released you_.”

 

Professor Snape's gaze zeroed in on Hermione with such intensity that she felt herself shift uncomfortably. “I owe you a profound debt, Miss Granger.”

 

“You owe me nothing, Professor,” she rebutted his words with a sincerity that touched his heart.

 

“Then, allow me to apologize for my previous transgressions against you,” he suggested solemnly. She did so with a gracious nod of her head, “Know this Hermione Granger, from this day forward I dedicate myself to you and your quest in bringing down the Dark Lord. I follow you willingly and will serve you to the best of my ability just as I serve my Domina.”

 

A thin, golden rope of magic arose from Severus and raced toward Hermione, just as a sparkling midnight blue rope erupted from her and met his. They twined around each other, meshing in a lovely swirl of iridescent colors before whipping back to wrap around their metacarpals; painlessly fusing into the delicate skin. To Hermione's eyes, it looked like a tattoo of conjoined, exquisitely carved, ovals encircling the tiny bones of her wrist.

 

“ _I had not foreseen this event_ ,” the voice admitted. “ _Nevertheless, I am pleased. You have chosen to follow myself and my daughter, Severus_?”

 

“I have,” he intoned, face steadfast.

 

“ _You do this of your own free will, my acolyte_? _With no outside instigation_?”

 

“I do,” he repeated, fervently.

 

“ _As the words are spoken, so shall it be_.”

 

“I should never have doubted, should never have fought against the bond, my Domina. I will do my utmost to do your bidding,” he promised.

 

“ _No, Severus! I am not Albus Dumbledore. I will not use you as a blunt instrument to suit my own ends! I offer opportunities and possibilities with my visions. You have chosen your path of your own free will and it will continue thus. The choices you make are your own. You are my acolyte, not my servant_.”

 

“I beg pardon, Domina,” Severus quickly replied, shamed by her words of rebuke. “I am aware of the difference, but my natural inclination is to do well by you as you are my Lady of Light and to assist you is to assist the light.”

 

“ _I am not angry, Severus. While it is true that I am of the Light, I have also been so much more to you. Please do not forget the intimacy of our time together in the other realm. I show those memories to you and the other_ _bonded_ _ones in the hope that you all retain what I also hold so dear to my heart. Do you understand, Severus_?”

 

Hermione noted with awe the shimmering tears her Professor blinked away before saying with startling honesty, “Yes, my Domina. I recall vividly the time we spent together as merely man and woman before the duties that necessitated that we part our paths into Lady and Acolyte. While I was yours completely in that world, in this one, my heart belongs to another although my bond and vow to you, and now to Miss Granger as well, supersede my personal feelings. All that I am, will go toward the words I have spoken today in renewed support of you and of your daughter.”

 

The very air was filled with a sense of satisfaction, tender warmth and remembered emotions. It was a tangible thing wrapping them completely in its thrall. Through Hermione's mind, brief images flashed fleetingly leaving her both curious and embarrassed by their personal nature. Professor Snape and this Entity, for lack of a better word, had been lovers in the dimension she was now trapped. This body which she inhabited, would one day be thrilled by his touch while he… he would be changed forever by the burning caresses of these delicate hands. Peverell hands.

 

“Are you disgusted,” her Professor asked, for he had seen just as she had.

 

Tilting her head to the side, dark curls falling forward over eyes the shade of midnight blue, making Severus' heart clench painfully, Hermione breathed the words, “No. It feels right and true, what you shared.” Severus eyes widened. “You loved each other. I can feel the intensity of it, and when it's real, there is no disgust in giving freely of yourselves. Sharing your bodies is the epitome of the pinnacle of joyous union between those who have shared everything else in the interim, and it's something to celebrate and revere.”

 

Humbled by her answer, Severus moved closer, gazing at her with admiration and respect. “You truly are the smartest witch of your age. Wise beyond your years. Thank you for understanding so completely.”

 

“ _Severus, it is time that the others be brought back into the fold. You know of_ _those of whom_ _I speak_.”

 

“Almost all are gathered, my Lady.”

 

“ _It is not enough for you all to gather in body_ ,” she pointedly reminded him as he flinched knowing full well her meaning. “ _There must be a gathering of spirit. Spirit and body working with one mind_. _With my Daughters' generosity a dark part of you has been destroyed_ _and_ _as such, this should make things easier for you to be the factor which binds you all as on_ e. _My Daughter cannot return to the realm in which she was born until_ _all is in its proper place_.”

 

“It shall be done,” Severus acknowledged with a slight bow.

 

“ _I have faith in you, my acolyte._ ”

 

“As do I,” Hermione added before her brain caught up with the fact that sanctioning her Professor's behavior would be both weird and uncalled for.

 

Snape's black eyes bored into her own with an intensity to rival any snake intent on mesmerizing its prey. But, Hermione didn't feel like prey. She felt justified in her summation of his character, and for a split second, a small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth making her Professor more human in that moment than Hermione had ever been privy to in all her years at Hogwarts.

 

“I will do my best not to disappoint,” he promised, once again giving a slight bow with her dark head, but this time to Hermione.

 

“It is all that we can ask of you,” Hermione and the strange woman's voice replied in unison.

 

“ _Now, my Daughter, it is time for you to return and begin your_ _quest in earnest. It is your task to find all those intended for the bonding as well as items of magical nature which will assist you. Blessed be to you both_.”

 

Hermione's world turned upside down and sideways once more, but this time it wasn't the sickening roller-coaster ride of before. Instead, she was able to maintain some sort of equilibrium as she landed back once more facing off with a younger and very determined Severus Snape, wand raised and ready for battle.


End file.
